Of All The King's Wives,
by Raving In The Rain
Summary: Only one can be Queen of Egypt. Mana serves one of the 7 royal wives, Amunet; who is the most brutal and willing to risk her sanity for the throne. Amunet finds her greatest competition in her own handmaiden and Atem's childhood friend. Vaseshipping.
1. Seven Brides

**NOTE: **

**This story is VASESHIPPING**

**Guten Tag, readers. I'll have you know that I worked really hard on this one. Not saying that I haven't worked hard on my other stories, but this one in particular went through boot camp. So, please, I would really appreciate your thoughts on this. I mean, is it too much? Too awkward? I dunno.**

**This story was translated by:**

**Myself!**

**(Kissing Cannibals)**

**My Sister**

**(Moshing in the Rain)**

**Native English Speaker and Reader of My Stories**

**(RedBeadyEyes)**

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><p>It never used to be like this. I never, in all my days, imagined a life like the one I lived. But even though I knew that I had been rotting from deep within, the satisfaction was well worth the sacrifice. The taste of blood became necessary; a habit even, or else I could not feel so accomplished. I soaked in the odor of the others' fear, I cuddled in the bitter cold of their slander, and somewhere among these terrible triumphs, I found a fetish for the screams they'd cry, begging me to stop. Oh, but I could not for I had found my sanctum, what gave me this thrilling pleasure of domination.<p>

My hair used to be so fine. When cut, wigs of my darling black hair sold for prices only the nobles could attain. And my skin, how I wish it was free of these scars. They were small at first, concealable, but they became larger and deeper as time went on. My skin used to be my greatest beauty. People would stop me in the street and compliment me, they'd say 'Your skin is so radiant and smooth, your arms must be Pharaoh's comfort'- or words to that effect. But if Pharaoh had found any comfort in these arms of mine, it was because I'd ensured that all other arms had quivered and ached.

But it never used to be like this.

Granted that there was ever present tension, but only a faint hum when listened for. Pharaoh had done his best to keep us all separated. With every wife he took, he had a palace built for them. It was a common belief amongst us wives that the closer the palace was to Pharaoh's, the more he preferred you. As logical as it may have seemed, I found no truth in it. What showed Pharaoh's pleasure in your company were the gifts. I could tell how many times any of the hemet* had slept with Pharaoh by her many treasures; far too great to be of her own earnings. Pleasing Pharaoh was no easy task. He was the king who already had everything. A slip of the dress or a flash of leg was fairly common when one of us wanted his golden attention, but only one of us would be able to keep it. There could only be one Queen of Egypt.

However, if I were to proclaim a point in which this silent war truly began, it would be when Pharaoh Atem took his seventh and final wife; Sitamun. I don't wish to insinuate that it was her fault this all began, it was inevitable regardless, but I can say that her arrival made it all happen faster. Sitamun, unlike the rest of us, wasn't so anonymous upon her arrival. Her name had been mentioned in whispers and in a few stories on the walls. She was Pharaoh Atem's cousin who stemmed from his mother's side of the royal family. And the fact that she shared the pharaoh's blood made her that much more of a threat to me and the other hemet.

I knew that if I were to be queen, I'd have to steal his attention. I would not cower as many of the other's had. I would slip into my most elegant tunic, have my servants brush my hair more thoroughly than before, and paint my kohl* to perfection in order to show up the bride at her own party.

I remember arriving there; how the royal palace illuminated most of Egypt after the Aten-disk sunk below the sands. You could hear crowds of people chattering and laughing even from the palace entrance. It was just as it had been for my marital feast, oddly enough, and probably as it was for the others' as well. For me, this was like returning home- one day this palace would be wear I dressed in the morning, ate at dinner, and birthed my children. We would have six or seven, of course, and surely one would be Pharaoh's heir.

"Welcome back, Lady Amunet." a servant escorted my handmaiden and I out of my personal sedan chair.

"Thank you. I am not late, am I?"

"Not at all. Pharaoh and his bride have not made their entrance yet."

"Excellent. Mana," I firmly called for my handmaiden. The small girl whipped around me and bowed. "Come along now. I do not wish to miss the arrival of a new hemet."

"Yes, ma'am."

The great doors parted before us and we began our way inside the royal palace. Every hall was swarmed with conversation and incense, majestically carved from the purest of alabaster. Great pillars lifted the high ceiling, and hardly a single wall went unpainted. Torches marked our path towards the banquet hall, but the rooms were so vast that I began to feel eyes watching me from the darkness. Perhaps it was only the anticipation of the night that should follow that teased my nerves into such knots, but the faint voice that told me I should not have come was plenty unsettling. Still, I'd been determined not to let Mana see that I'd been second-guessing myself.

"Keep up, Mana. And do fix that hair of yours. You may only be a servant, but you are _my_ servant. I can't have you looking like the common slave."

"Yes. Sorry, ma'am. It's just that I've been so preoccupied with grooming you that I guess I forgot to take care of myself-"

"I didn't ask for a story, regardless of how well you tell them. Please, Mana," I grabbed her by the shoulders just before we slipped through the entrance of the banquet hall, "do not embarrass me. This is a very important night for me. Should you find any way, no matter how miniscule, to ruin this, you will not have a single meal for a week. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. When we enter, be sure to smile and stay only a few steps behind me. You may be polite and greet people, but do not converse with anyone without my permission." I patted down her hair and brushed sand from her dress.

"I understand."

I took a good look over her. Her thick brown hair was hard to tame, but it was better than usual, tied back with lace and swept out of her face. I'd taken the liberty of purchasing her a new tunic; I mean, there was no way she was going to wear the short, overused one. It was custom fit, addressing all her curves and edges, and was held together with a blue sash. I'd had her groomed and bathed, but I had to admit that most of her grace was natural. No doubt that Mana was beautiful for one of her class- no, even for royal standards. What made her more rare in beauty than most was her eyes. Anyone who knew her would have sworn they'd been made of jade. And for that, I resented her from the start.

"You look wonderful." I smiled. She bowed her head, knowing the hate I had in my heart whenever those words fell from my mouth. It hadn't been the first time I complimented her, but it was no daily occurrence. And she knew, Ma'at Almighty, she knew I hated that it was true.

"Thank you, Lady Amunet. It is all thanks to your kindness and generosity."

Liar. Anyone with manners would know that was the politically correct response. I thought I'd be the one to show up the bride, not Mana- not some peasant girl! But I had a composure to maintain and the public eye was also a public mouth, so beating my servant wouldn't have done me any good there.

"Yes, yes. Now, I need you to take watch. Inform me if there are any other of Pharaoh's wives who have come to do as I have."

"I will not let you down."

"You best not."

We swiftly turned the corner and were immediately struck by the festivities. The hall was carefully lit so that no corner was dark and every face could be seen from across the room. I was bombarded by smiles and bows, those who knew of me backed away from my path.

"Lady Amunet, how nice it is to see you again. Your room has already been made for you." a familiar, tender voice swept into my ears. Isis stood before me, her crystal blue eyes already latching to my skin.

"You knew I'd be coming?"

"With my Millennium Necklace, I was able to see all the guests who'd arrive many days before the celebration. I was worried that someone with evil in their heart would come to hurt our Pharaoh."

I should have known. She was a part of Pharoah's council and the holder of the Millennium Necklace. I supposed I had been away for longer than I thought.

"Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten? Well, I do thank you for your readiness. You are most kind."

"It is no problem at all. You are one of the royal wives after all." she bowed her head and had vanished into the crowd within moments. I prayed in my mind that Ma'at would not see my cheap greetings as lies, for I found little amusement in talking to that woman. She was indeed kind, but conversation was something I had to be in the mood for. And I most certainly was not feeling it then. While still trying to flick away that incessant voice that told me I was making a mistake by being there, I had to remain confident and mindful.

"Lady Amunet." Mana appeared from the crowd.

"Yes, what news?"

"None are here but Ranno. She sits alone at a table nearby."

"The quiet girl?"

Mana nodded.

"Why is _she _here? Everyone knows she refused to give herself completely to Pharaoh on the night of their marriage. She can bear such societal frowning?" I found myself searching the room for her gentle face. Surely enough, she was there, sitting alone at a long table. Ranno had an unmistakable face; always so wide-eyed and awake. Of all Pharaoh's wives, she had to be the least conniving and cruel. He simply married her for her looks and her soothing voice whilst she sung at one of the desert temples, which inevitably saved her and her family from poverty and starvation. As sad as it was, none of us wives felt sorry for her. There was something so condescending about her presence; and truthfully, I don't know what for.

Her eyes finally collided with mine and she stood abruptly I was almost surprised how quickly she reacted- but then again, Ranno had always been so full of energy. She slipped past a few people to get to me and I cocked an eyebrow with irritation. Personally, I would have rather spoken to Isis than Ranno. Ranno was so detestable and only due to her innocence. She never spoke ill of anyone or anything, avoided confrontation, and was the human equivalent of a frightened mouse.

"Well, well. Ranno, how lovely to see you."

"And you, Amunet. I had hoped I would not be the only hemet. Sitamun deserves to know the truth. And with more of us here, I feel it would only make her believe me. No one should have to fall into this ugly game as we had. The other hemet are not as kind as you are, they will surely make easy work of Sitamun-she is quite young, Amunet, not yet sixteen. All the other hemet care about is getting to the throne and themselves. Oh, I've begun to trust so very few in this world."

"Oh." I had to take a moment to sort my thoughts. Was she insinuating that I was one of the few she trusted, that I was not so heartless and beastly as the others were? If so, Ranno had been more foolish than I thought. But she was right. If Sitamun was truly so young _and_ she was related to Pharaoh, then the royal hemet would ensure she was the first to go, myself included.

"And by 'truth', what is it that you mean? Pharaoh's marriages are quite public, so I find it hard to believe that someone of her status would not know of them."

"No, that is not it. What I mean is that she deserves to know that this union with Pharaoh is dangerous. The hemet are ruthless, intimidating women and will try to make her run. And even if she truly does love Atem," a blush fell upon her cheeks as she looked off into the crowd, "she will not be able to see him much."

I saw it then; only a quick flicker, but I did see it. It peached her tan cheeks and lit up her eyes. Ranno was in love with the pharaoh. How quaint. She was pure _and _impressionable. Poor child.

"Why, Ranno, what luck. I've come to do the same. Forgive me for doubting you so." I laughed.

Now Ma'at could judge me fairly, for my lies were blatant.

"Oh, Amunet. Thank you. I always knew you could not have been as selfish as the others."

"I have felt the same towards you, dear Ranno."

That was when I could feel the heat of Mana's eyes. She knew my lies but she dared not reveal them. I had once caught her trying to insinuate my words had been false to Anahknemrure, another foolish bride of Pharaoh's. Needless to say, she's been afraid to attempt to do so again. But this was different. Mana, as much as she tried to hide it from me, was rather close with Ranno. I suppose they could have been called friends. They were very similar in age, adored laughter and their conversations, and often wished for a life of adventure and exploration.

"Mana?" Ranno's voice perked up the way it always had when she spotted a friend. "Is that you in such finery?"

Mana searched my face for permission to converse. She was usually so well behaved and easy to get along with. Perhaps I could have even called Mana a friend. She was such a good listener, and even though I knew she wished to retort to many of the things I said, she bit her lip respectfully and made the very best of it. Surely I couldn't show that sort of affection in public. It could have very easily been used against me. Such conversation between Mana and I were strictly private.

I gave her a small nod and she smiled brightly.

"Ranno!"

"Oh, Mana, you look absolutely gorgeous." she took Mana's hands in hers. "I've not seen you in so long, it seems you grow more beautiful every year."

"Thank you, Ranno. You are so kind."

"Come, Mana, let us talk by the window. It is much easier to speak of stories and adventures when sitting over the moonlit horizon."

"Lady Amunet?" Mana's voice called a few times. I had not realized I'd been staring off, pondering on some nonsensical memories.

"Hm? Yes?"

"May I leave with Lady Ranno? Only to the window, of course."

"Yes, fine." I shooed her away. She and Ranno giggled off and I was left alone in the crowd. I could not help but wonder if that voice from before was right- if should not have come. A strange knot tied in my stomach as though Anubis had already begun removing my organs, preparing me to walk with the dead. There were so many faces around me and not one brought me any comfort or relief. The only pleasure being amongst them was imagining them bowing to me and my husband. Who in this room would paint me on walls beside Hatshepsut, Tiye, and Nefertari? Who would build statues to place throughout the land? Who would steer my decorated boat down the Nile?

I was almost shoved to the back when the crowd began shuffling away from the middle of the hall. A hush fell when a scrawny servant boy used all his strength just to bang once on the gong. Two of Pharaoh's most trusted men, Set and Mahad, were the first to march towards the throne. They ensured his safety with their Millennium Items and made sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing.

"My good people," Mahad raised his arms, "we thank you all for coming to this celebration. It is now my honor to welcome our beloved Pharaoh Atem and his new wife, Sitamun."

The crowd applauded and cheered as they watched him pass to his golden seat. I, unlike the rest, hardly made a noise when my hands touched. I pushed forward to lay eyes upon the man I had married. I've not seen him for so long, not since the night after our marriage. He'd married two other ladies since then, and Sitamun would make the third.

I heard people around me gasp and "oh" when Sitamun passed us by. She was still adorned in her ceremonial tunic, her body so thin, and her hair so neatly placed. When I looked, I looked deeply into her. She appeared to be a child. Why, her breasts had not even budded She was shorter than our great king, and shared few features with him. She, too, possessed those enrapturing velvet eyes that I adored on Pharaoh. She would be easy to rid ourselves of. The girl was exactly that; a _girl_, not yet a woman regardless of her status as hemet. To me, and surely to the rest of the hemet, she was easy prey.

I did my very best to make myself known to her. At the last second, before she had to turn her head to see me, her eyes fell unto mine. I peered as ardently, as annoyed, and as determined to ruin her as I could. Then I eased a condescending, irritated smirk upon my lips and continued clapping for her intrusion. I watched approvingly as her eyes then darted for the floor and the worry sparkled on her childish face.

But my silent success was not long lived. In the midst of all the commotion, all that had happened seemed to slow and still. In mid clap, I found my eyes swimming to the opposite side of the room. There, I found Marhamaat staring me down. Marhamaat was not like Ranno or Sitamun. She was not as easily persuaded or frightened, nor as naïve or timid. Marhamaat was truly a challenge, and the look on her face said it all. She'd found what she came to find and would not hesitate to tell the other's of my being there. Surely this would begin our war.

End Chapter One

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><p><strong>Hemet - Ancient Egyptian term for "Wife", but probably more along the lines of "female partner".<strong>

**Kohl - Makeup worn by men and women in ancient times, predominantly Egypt, believed to protect the eye from infection and harsh sunlight.**


	2. Violence In Velvet Eyes

In one swift moment, I had forgotten where the line between pride and fear was drawn. Just earlier I had been so sure of myself, so ready to steal the throne, and then I was lost in Marhamaat's gaze. Unlike myself, she played no tricks. It wasn't that she was allied with any of the other hemet, but more that she despised me above all others. She may have even predicted I'd be there to erase my competition. She was said to have been able to see into the future.

Marhamaat was once a traveling priestess. She and her family roamed the Black Land, stopping in cities to read fortunes and perform miracles. Indeed she was pretty, but her wigs were all so unkempt and her eyes were so dull and tired. Somehow Pharaoh found the beauty in her and promised her marriage in return for a good fortune. After they wed, she was tossed aside like the rest of us. However, it appeared to us, and even her, that she was least loved of us all. She was used, and probably resented Pharaoh a great deal for that. She was not used for permanent reasons like Adrasteia or Anahknemrure, but only once. If anything, it was probably why she had always been so bitter towards the rest of the hemet.

Just the look in her tedious eyes told me she wanted to ruin me. She hated this game of wives more than anyone, knowing she was certainly Pharaoh's forgotten wife. Some would soon call Sitamun the Pharaoh's sixth wife, not knowing of Marhamaat's marriage which took place months before.

And then, once Pharaoh took his place beside his new wife upon the throne, Mahad called for our attention again. Yet I and Marhamaat were still slow to reply. Our combined gazes, hers being so threatening and mine being so disgusted by her existence, locked us in a world that hardly seemed to move at all. I could hear Mahad welcome us again, rambling about the marvelous feast and for what purpose we had all gathered there, but they were deep undertones that flowed as thick as honey when passing my ears. All I could think of was how I was supposed to get out of this mess. Marhamaat would surely tell the others that I was there, knowing I wanted to ruin Sitamun and run away with Pharaoh's heart.

In her mind, she must have thought I was cheating. I wouldn't be so bold to call it that, though. I thought of it more as getting a head start. But that aside, there seemed to be no way around this one. I'd been caught, even though I thought I'd been prepared by telling Mana to keep watch- _Mana_! Yes, Mana was supposed to have warned me about the other hemet. She'd told me none but that childish Ranno had come. None! It was her fault I'd not been able to avoid this. And now, because of Mana's negligence, the other hemet would ensure of my disposal.

I tore from Marhamaat's twisted gaze and was tossed back into the speed of things. The crowd moved and stretched as the music began. The laughter of nonsensical conversations and the blabbering of how delicious the food was flooded the room, but I swam- pushed- my way to the shore.

"Mana!" I yelled like an eagle about to dive for the kill.

She quickly turned, her eyes wide and goose-bumps already visible on her arms. I watched as Ranno placed a hand on hers in an effort to tell her to stay, but Mana was too afraid to disobey me when I called for her as I did.

I snatched at her arm and she let out a small shriek. My nails were already tucked beneath her skin when I began dragging her through the crowd. She'd been tripped and nudged behind me, forced to follow my path through these odious noblemen and their jittery mistresses.

"You've made me a fool." a muttered sharply. "I gave you specific orders and you cannot follow one!"

"Lady Amunet, I don't-"

"How dare you speak while I am speaking!" my grip tightened on her wrist. I pulled her in close as we neared the edge of the crowd. But then I had realized we were directly in Pharaoh's view. He stood slightly, not enough to cause alarm to the nobles, but just so that I knew he was watching me. His eyes skimmed over the scratches on Mana's arm, the folds in her skin that I had pressed with my hand, and there was something melancholy there. I knew they had once been friends- Mana and Atem, I mean. How good of friends I don't quite know, but friends nonetheless. Mana had been given to me as a wedding gift by her former master and had not seen Pharaoh since.

I paused in his eyes. He wished I'd stop and let her go. I knew it then. But with all the power in the world, he could not find the words to command me so, or perhaps he didn't wish to cause a scene. Mana then turned her head to follow my eyes, but I forbade her to look upon Pharaoh after all these years. Seeing her eyes so full of fear may have helped him in his search for words. I could not allow their eyes to meet again. I yanked her towards me and she gave a small whimper.

"Come. We are leaving, Mana." I made sure Atem heard the venom in my voice.

"But-" she stopped herself.

"We are leaving!"

Two servants escorted me to my room. This part of the palace was dark. The only torches having been lit were in the hands of my escorts. I had released Mana, but only so she would not get used to the pain. I looked back at her once while we trekked up the stairs. She walked with her head down and her arms tucked in as if to protect her heart. She did her very best to stifle any noises, although I could hear her sniffle then and there. She knew what was to come when we reached my room.

"Here is your room, your highness. Your beautiful things have all been brought up for you. Would you like us to unpack for you?"

"No." I replied quickly and coldly.

"Then will you be needing anything else, Lady Amunet?"

"Actually…yes. Fetch me a whip."

"Yes, ma'am. Right away."

Mana's eyes never left the floor. The silence was always what killed her. She tried not to move a muscle or look at anything in particular. Mana was usually so well behaved and I didn't often beat her. But when I did, I made sure she felt it for days to come.

"Do you know why I must do this, Mana?"

Her knees began to tremble beneath her.

"You may speak."

"I do not know." she spoke quietly. "Lady Amunet, please-"

"Marhamaat is here." I cut her breath in two.

She looked at me then with watery eyes. Mana hated to cry and willed the tears to stay back with every bit of strength she had.

"I specifically told you to keep watch and inform me if you should see another hemet. You told me there were none but Ranno present." I watched her gaze tremble back down to the floor. "Look at me, Mana! I was generous enough to let you take your leave with that putrid Ranno, to be merry and enjoy yourself. That did not mean you could stop looking for the hemet, that did not mean you were no longer my servant. My orders still remained and you ignored them because you were too busy fantasizing about a life you'll never have! Now I've been made a fool. Marhamaat will tell the others of my presence and you know damn well what shall ensue from that!"

"Lady Amunet-"

"Speak not."

One of the servant's came back with the whip. As it passed from his hand to mine, I could almost taste the fear in Mana. The whip was thick and sturdy with a golden handle fit for a king.

"Will that be all, my lady?"

"Yes." I spoke. He seemed slightly taken aback by the openness and indifference of my responses. "Leave us. Your services here are no longer needed."

With a bow, he retreated. I waited until the dim glow of his torch had long since faded and the sound of his feet were like faint whispers. The moonlight swept into the room in the most precarious of ways. The shadows across my and Mana's faces, across the floor and furniture, left an ominous and depressing weight atop my skin. All was silent but for the wind that slipped past the window veils.

"Mana."

She slipped in front of me and bowed on her knees.

"I do not take pride in beating you." I watched as she slightly lifted her head with my words as though they uplifted her spirits. Still, her face was kept near to the floor and she did not dare take a glance at me. "You are such a beautiful girl, Mana, and to see your skin so scarred and bruised makes me ill. But I will do what I must, and I will beat you hard. Your choice is this, however; where would you prefer I strike?"

She hesitated for a moment before raising her palms to me. Her fragile, filthy hands had always been a beauty. Alas, I would destroy them. She usually chose her palms when I gave her a choice of where to be beaten for a reason I could never surmise.

I raised the whip high in the air and then swung it down on her tender flesh. The whip cracked and shook, but I did it again and again and again. Both new and old wounds on her palms opened anew and swelled with blood. Her flesh had been torn, and with each slap of the whip she let out a small cry. She was brave, I had to admit. Even through it all, she refused to allow those tears to cross the brim of her eyes. It was only when I had finished that she let one slip.

Her body trembled before me. In her lowly state, bloodied and afraid, I had almost forgotten that I cared for her. For a brief moment I thought about striking her again, but then I remembered that she was no ordinary slave. She was my handmaiden. The one who listened to me as she brushed my hair, the one who I found myself laughing with and entrusting the secrets of my past to.

My father used to tell me that I should never tell anyone anything about me. He said if you told those higher than you, they will not care, tell those that are the same as you, they will use it against you, and tell those that are lower than you, then they shall tell those that are the same as you. In shortened words, you can not trust anyone. But I suppose that it is only easy when you are not so lonely. All I had was Mana. I had to trust her, if only the slightest bit.

"Do not think me cruel." I knelt down by her side. "I do this because I love you."

"Yes, Amunet." she muttered. Her eyes were resentful, and if anything, more quizzical than that. But she would forget all about this in a day or so. It would be just as it always was.

"Now get some rest, child. I retire now."

Even as I walked towards the bed, she still kneeled on the ground. I don't know for how long she stayed as such, but I'm sure it continued late into the night. Mana had always been a stubborn one alright. I fell asleep sometime after the guests started to leave. I knew this because the sound of horses and conversations continued to flourish through my dreams. Which had also lead me to believe that when my eyes fluttered open again that I had still been in the smog of a dream.

A desert chill broke through my windows and swept under my blankets. I could hear hushed voices not too far off in the palace when I awoke.

"Amunet would not approve." I heard.

Immediately after hearing my name, I wished to know more of these dream figures. I slipped from the comfort of my bed and silently made my way towards the voices. There had been no torches lit and I was forced to navigate mostly by sound. I had not been too afraid of stumbling or walking into something since the halls were so open and vast, but the darkness still teased at my nerves. Then, in the moonlight, two silhouettes were revealed to me against a wall. One had to have been Pharaoh himself; that hair of his was unmistakable, even in shadows cast upon the walls. The other was a little more peculiar- a woman by the looks of her shape and breasts.

"Ouch, that burns."

"It's going to."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yes. I've seen Isis do this many times. I would have had her address your wounds, but she's been under so much stress that I dare not wake her up."

"Oh." sighed the girl.

During their brief silence, I crept closer towards them and peered around a great pillar. Mana stood looking out over the city, her hand lying effortlessly between Pharaoh's. Even in a dream, or so I hoped it was, this was preposterous. But I wanted to see more. I could feel the heat of aggression rising between my breasts. There was no way Mana would betray me twice in one night. She wasn't so cruel. I wouldn't believe it. This was all just a dream, that was all.

"What troubles you, Mana?" Atem stopped wrapping her wounds to look her in the eyes.

"Oh, nothing."

"I've not known you all my life to accept that as an answer. Something is wrong. Is it Amunet? You know, I can have her punished. I don't approve of her treating you like this-"

"Please do not be so harsh on her, Atem. I know she seems cruel, and I know she can be quite hurtful. But you must believe me, she does it because she loves me."

"That does not sound like you at all. I think Amunet has finally brainwashed you."

Mana laughed slightly.

"Perhaps. But, you must know, I've never seen anyone so tragic as she. You can't possibly imagine all that she's been through. It amazes me still that she continues on with such grace and refinement."

"But Mana, that does not give her the right to hurt you like this."

"I know. But she'll know I betrayed her if you should try to change her. I don't even want to know what she'd do to me if-"

"As long as you are with me, she cannot lay a hand on you."

"I am all she has besides you. I can not leave her."

Pharaoh looked deeply unto her. She was unwavering although I knew there was fear in her heart. She knew what she was doing by telling Pharaoh not to intervene.

"You have always been strong, Mana, and I trust you know what it is you're doing."

"I do." she looked down at her hand, all wrapped up and protected from infection. With a gentle, simple smile, her gaze resurfaced to meet Atem's. And I had never seen him look back at anyone the way he did to her. His eyes almost stuck to hers like he never wanted her to leave. I held my breath, but inside I was screaming.

"Mana…", he spoke almost as a whisper, "whatever happened to the old days?"

She smiled. "We grew up."

Another silence followed, this one felt like much longer. I could bear it no longer. This all had to be a dream. Surely if I just went back to bed, I'd later wake up and it should be morning. I dared not wait to see what happened later. I couldn't. So I tiptoed back to my room- the trek that it was- and took refuge amongst the pillows and sheets. It was harder than I thought to keep my eyes closed, however. All I could do was hope that these events were not true. Otherwise, my father- as much as I'd hate to admit it- might have been right.


	3. War In The Air

Sunrises hardly brought me any satisfaction. I often longed for that feeling of wholeness and peace that others had taken from a still moment as this, but it never came to me. I watched as the stars of Nut were covered by her gentle hues of blues and pinks. Soon Ra would be born again and rest amongst Nut, so high above us all that no action went unnoticed. Knowing that often made me think of all that I have done and what fate the gods have prepared for me. It made me think of father and mother, of baby sister, and if Ammut should choose to swallow me when I am seated at the Weighing of the Heart Ceremony*.

To most, sunrises brought the comfort of having a clean slate, the promise of a new day and a new hope. To me, it was a reminder that the gods were always watching me and debating my past; a bleak reminder that my days may soon be up.

Mana still rested in the other room. Immediately after laying eyes upon her, memories of my dream resurfaced. I was disgusted just thinking of Pharaoh's hands on her. Atem was a living god sent to lead us, Mana was a peasant girl; it was pretty much illegal- a sin even- for her to so much as look him in the face. Considering Pharaoh had already bedded me as his chosen wife, I was the closest thing she would ever have to fleshly deities.

I went to cover her with the sheets that she had always kicked off of her. Mana may have looked fragile, but in truth she was anything but. She had a slight snore and slept with girlish glee, all stretched out along her bed and leaving no room for suitors. I was half way to smiling when I noticed her hand tucked beneath the pillow. It hand been well tended to, dressed in fine cloth and her wounds hidden. Slightly enraged, I grabbed her hand and began unwrapping the bandages. All the lacerations were closed and slicked with some kind of healing oil.

"No." I whispered, stepping away from the bed. I saw Atem holding her hand in his, wrapping Mana's wounds with such care again, how he smiled at her and offered to punish me. It wasn't a dream. In my daze, I had actually stumbled upon a betrayal.

"Mana….you….you had no choice." I tried so very hard to convince myself, falling to my knees at her bedside. "He is Pharaoh. You would have had no choice but to obey him. Sweet Mana, you would not betray me so. Although given the chance, you did not speak ill of me when Pharaoh was so ready to listen to it. We are friends, Mana. You would not do this to me; you know how important being Pharaoh's Queen is to me, you know how I adore him. No, no. You were only trying to help me. Am I right, Mana? You wanted to convince Pharaoh that I would make a suitable queen?"

Her sleeping body lent me no reply. So I watched her breath for a few moments. Ra, I wished she would stop. I had almost been begging in my mind that she would simply stop breathing and take Anubis' hand. She looked so at peace sleeping there that I could not imagine anything happening to her, and I knew that the longer she stayed at my side, the more likely something would. She could be just as free as she dreamed. She could see the world and meet all the charming young ladies and gentlemen she desired if she would only stop breathing.

"Sweet Mana," I slipped her hair away from her face, "I do not trust myself. You are so innocent and beautiful, it is no mystery why Pharaoh dotes on you so. I know I shall not be able to suppress this indelible envy I harvest for too much longer. If you should see Lord Osiris upon his throne, I only ask that you smile and tell him I only had your happiness in mind."

"Lady Amunet."

I leapt within the confines of my skin, standing immediately to face the intruder. It was Isis again. She always had a way of entering a room without any presence at all and always at the most inconvenient of times. I glared with such spite, and she stood without ever faltering. Only her scintillating Millennium Necklace showed any life when it glinted in the sun as if to wink at me.

"I am not interrupting anything, am I?"

A spike of hatred bolted up into my chest. She knew damn well what she was doing, walking in on me like she did. I wanted nothing more than to tear that knowing smirk from her face.

"No, not at all." I tried my best to wash away the surprise in my voice.

"Good. Now, if you'd feel so inclined, I'd ask that you dress soon."

"And may I ask what for?"

"Your father desires a conference with you."

My heart jolted into my ribs, maybe so far as to slip between them. My face reddened with shock and anger. How did he know I would be there at the royal palace? But I was even more surprised to hear that he was still alive. I had not seen or heard from him in years- and that was the way I liked it. You would think that after what happened he would have passed on by then. I was in total disbelief and perhaps a little fear. I knew from my childhood that when father requested a private audience with me it was never to commend me. Never.

"M-My father?"

"Yes. He arrived just before the dawn."

"I see. I shall meet with him soon then."

"He will be waiting for you in the great hall." Isis bowed respectfully before withdrawing. I was left awed and slightly nauseated. A gentle breeze sweeping through my clothes was the only thing soothing enough to prevent me from screaming. Although I knew never to keep my father waiting, I stood inert for some time. I don't know how long it was, but it was enough to surmise that seeing my father was inevitable. I was not able convince myself I'd been dreaming again.

"You'll be fine." a warm hand found mine. Mana reached up from her bed and folded her fingers between mine.

"Mana? Have you just been laying there listening?"

She giggled. "Only a little."

Ardently, I tried to find fortitude in her jade eyes. If I could be as strong as Mana, facing my father would be a whole lot easier. But I was not Mana nor would I ever be, and even her fearlessness would not last long against my malevolent memories.

She stood then, taking a dramatic stretch. I watched precariously while she walked over to my vanity and prodded around for a brush. I hoped she had not heard me before when I wished secretly for her death. I did not think I could bear the strain on our relationship; the deranged and distorted merriness that it already was. She returned again with a wrist covered in my fine jewels and gold, a tunic, and a smile as warm as the rising sun.

Mana was skilled in what she did. She dressed me well and good, ensuring that my tunic was appropriate for the situation and comfortably draped along my curves. She had an eye for detail when she wasn't too busy fooling around. With every bit of gold she slid onto my arms and around my neck, I looked every bit like the queen I knew I was going to be. I could feel it too. I was becoming Queen of Egypt.

"There." Mana admired her work. She pulled my hair back and gave it another quick brushing before hugging me from behind. She held my shoulders dearly and rested her chin upon them. Such closeness was still unfamiliar to me. Hands were always so foreign to my skin.

"You are beautiful." she whispered in my ear. I could only stare into the mirror and wish I saw as she did. I knew my face was melancholy, though I could barely feel it, and I knew my eyes forbade her to see fully into me.

"I am confident in you, Lady Amunet. I know no person stronger than my lady and master."

I did. She stood behind me, breathing down my neck.

"Don't be a fool, Mana."

"Maybe I am. But this fool believes in you. I trust you will do fine, my lady. I shall be there for you, just outside the door."

I smiled back at her, rubbing the fingers she laced over my shoulder.

"Whatever did I do to deserve you?"

She laughed and hugged me tighter.

The palace was quiet this time of morning. Few servants roamed about other than those who stayed watch beside doors. Most of those who were awake were down in the kitchens preparing the day's menu. Mana and I strolled along the sun soaked halls. For a morning so early, the air had already been crusted with heat. As we neared the door to the great hall, Mana tangled her arms around mine for comfort.

"Perhaps, if we are ever to be so lucky, your father has aged a good deal and then shall not be so intimidating."

"I hope so."

She gave my arm a tight squeeze of reassurance. The guards who stood watch by the door hit the floor with their staffs and made two loud bangs, signaling the man on the other side to open the doors.

"I shall be right here, Lady Amunet."

"Thank you. I take great comfort in that."

Father's eyes immediately captured me in their wicked gaze. I did my very best to appear resolute and eloquent, but I could hear my heart thumping disobediently. It was true that father had aged, but not as much as I would have liked. Only thin wrinkles carved away at his tan face. His eyes had a yellowish tint to them, but still had not lost their potency. Father was a tall, thick man. He never wore a tunic that hid his chest and avoided wearing wigs whenever possible. Holy words were inked long and dark across his arms and all down his back. His whip wounds and lacerations were still pert and pink on his shoulders and chest; he'd always been fond of those scars.

"Good morning, Harantatef." I bowed my head and curtseyed before him.

"You should know better than to keep me waiting, Amunet."

"Yes, I do apologize. I was not informed of your presence until late."

"Squalid palace servants. I would have expected better from Pharaoh's finest. Not informing my own daughter of my immediate arrival? Disgusting."

"Yes, well, to what do I owe this honor of your visitation, dear father?"

Father turned his back to me, knowing that I'd see the mark of our history. He wanted me to see the deep scar just between his shoulder blades; a scar that could only have been made from a knife piercing the flesh. He paced towards the windows pretending it wasn't his intention to allow me to see it again.

"You've been married to Pharaoh Atem for, what is it, one year?"

"Two."

"Two years. Yes. And still there is no queen of Egypt. How curious. I wonder, how is that so?"

"Ph-Pharaoh Atem has many wives. He only married the seventh just yesterday, actually. He… he has not chosen a single queen as of yet."

"How strange. See, perhaps it is that my memory is as old as these bones, but I recall it was the fourth wife of Atem who had promised her family the throne."

"Yes. I believe she did promise that."

"Then why has she not delivered on that promise?" father spun around quickly, his face just as angry as his voice. "Have I raised a liar, Amunet? Is that it? You've not written your family once. And so while you sit here with your handmaidens and fine jewelry, feasting on the finest foods, your mother sits home ill and starving."

"Because you keep her there in that lowly state. You hardly let the poor woman outside!"

"Silence, child! How dare you speak to your father in such a manner."

"Father, it is not that simple. I can not force Pharaoh's hand. I am doing all that I can-"

"All that you can? Amunet, you've barely managed to do anything at all. This is exactly where I left you two years ago on the day you married Pharaoh. You've not done anything! And where is all the gold you promised?"

"I've barely got any of my own."

"Barely? You are lathered in it, foolish child! Think you I am ignorant?"

"Not at all-"

"Disrespectful, ungrateful child of mine. If I'd only had a son instead."

"If only you'd had a son instead, your filthy hands would not be anywhere near the throne!"

All I could feel then was a great heat pecking at my skin. Father had struck the burning incense nearby and had it thrown upon me. Sparks floated atop my flesh and sizzled away. I screamed in pain, but probably more in anger. Father gripped me while I was down and felt that his figure would appear to the greater advantage if he stood over me.

"A message has gone out to all the king's wives that they must return here to the royal palace within five days. You, Ranno, Marhamaat, and whoever the seventh is are already here. That leaves Adrasteia, Anahknemrure, and Nefemnah. Time is running short, Amunet. Soon Pharaoh will have to make a choice, and of all the king's wives, only one can be queen of Egypt. If that one is not you, I will have you mummified alive. Do you understand?"

I nodded sheepishly.

"Good. Give Pharaoh a male heir and your place on the throne is guaranteed. Do whatever it takes." he scanned me over cruelly. "There is no knife to stab me in the back _this _time, Amunet. So you best not betray me again."

"Yes, father."

He lifted himself off of me and exhaled mightily. In one swift movement, he took his leave in a putrid silence. I refused to stand up. I wanted to wallow there in my misery for a moment if only to dwell on thoughts of ending of my life. It wouldn't be the first time, I supposed.

"Lord Harantatef." I heard Mana greet as she bowed to him. Immediately afterwards, she rushed in to find me sitting there in such quiescence.

"Lady Amunet!" she cried. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine." though I knew I wasn't.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Quite."

She dusted off some of the incense from my person as she helped me up from the floor. Mana was usually so caring like that.

"Come now, my lady, you've been summoned for breakfast. Let us converse and eat. That shall help you forget all about this confrontation."

"Thank you, Mana, but I don't think I'll be eating any. I am… not hungry."

"Nonsense. It is the most important meal of the day. Trust me, Lady Amunet, the cooks here know what they're doing. For breakfast, they probably have Ful medames, and eggs, and dates, and wine. Oh, it's so good. And, more importantly, Pharaoh will be there." she teased.

"As will Marhamaat, and Sitamun, and Ranno, and-"

I knew that look. Her eyes were big and watery and she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. It was hard for me to refuse.

"Alright. But only for the promise of ful medames."

"Yay!" she jumped.

Mana lead me towards the dining hall where I knew some controversy awaited. I was right too. The hemet were already seated at the long table, each dressed to impress. Of all, I was surprised to see that I had been he most reserved in my selection of clothing. Even Ranno, who we all believed to be so pure and sweet, offered more cleavage than I thought she even had. She was the only virgin wife too, which made it all the more shocking. Marhamaat's face was frozen in that same position from last night; disgusted by my being and irritated that she was least favored. And Sitamun, the youngest at only thirteen years old and Pharaoh's cousin, looked at everything in the room but me.

Each had a handmaiden as well who stood patiently behind their chairs. Mana found me one towards the middle of the table, seeing as the ones near the end were taken due to their need for Pharaoh's closeness. It was quiet and quite awkward. We all wanted to say something, but we never did. The competition and hatred clung to the air that we sucked into our lungs. Only a few moments passed before the council stepped into the hall and took their seats as well. Isis sat across from me- that nuisance- and Set took one of the ends. They were shortly followed by Pharaoh and then we all suddenly remembered our manners.

Atem took one look around the table, assessing that this was probably not a good idea. And I could not possibly agree more.

After the meals were served, most of us ate in silence. Ranno often spoke quietly to Sitamun; the two probably had already formed some comfortable relationship. And Marhamaat would never cease staring me down.

"Amunet." she called from down the table. I put down my food and pursed my lips.

"Yes, Marhamaat?"

"I saw you at the celebration last night. You looked positively beautiful." she spoke with a false joy.

Atem's eyes switched between Marhamaat and I. He could sense it too, that she obviously wanted to start something that I did not feel like participating in.

"Why thank you. I only wish I could have seen you. Perhaps then I could have indulged in more of your meretricious conversations." I smiled with a look that gave away my intentions of wanting to slap her.

"Yes, your thoughts would have been very instructive in that area. I just wanted to pay my compliments now because when I had sought you out later in the evening, it seemed you had disappeared. You left you early, did you not?"

"I did." I began playing with my food.

"Oh, what a pity. You missed Sitamun's lovely dance. She's quite the proficient. Why ever did you leave, dear Amunet?"

"I had business to attend to."

"Isn't that also why you came in the first place?"

Then all the attention was upon us. Ranno's expression begged us not to get into anything too heated and Mana, Set, and Mahad were prepared to break up a fight. Atem was clearly regretting his decision to welcome his wives back to his table.

"I wonder, Marhamaat. Do these conversations precede from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous premonitions? I mean, surely my ability to predict the future is rather limited and I would not know of how much one can see into and study events that have not yet occurred, but if I may be so bold, if you are so talented as to see the future, then why ask such stirring questions if you already know the answers?"

She eyed me as though she were ready to leap over this table and strangle me. Yet my retort silenced her for the rest of the meal. It was already a wonderful start to the day, which was bound to get worse. If what my father said was true, then I should have been expecting more of the hemet to arrive. I especially was not looking forward to seeing Nefemnah again. If there was anyone I hated more than Harantatef, it was her.

I've always hated sunrises. They hardly brought me any satisfaction. To most, sunrises brought the comfort of having a clean slate, the promise of a new day and a new hope. To me, it was a reminder that the gods were always watching me and debating my past; a bleak reminder that my days may soon be up.

End Chapter Three

* * *

><p><strong><span>Weighing Of The Heart Ceremony<span> - A ceremonial belief in the Egyptian panetheon that your heart must be judged before you can enter the Afterlife. It is a final judgement. Those who have sinned are eaten by Ammut, "The Gobbler" and their souls cease to exist.**


	4. The Accident

The day had not begun well, but I had hope that it would not end the same way as well. Mana was that very hope whispering within my breast. She was what had tugged me through that very long, very constricting day; helping me avoid any more confrontations and preoccupying me from more chagrins. Mana was a savior, delivering unto me the only peace that dreadful month would bear. With the promise of a tender sleep from the lips of Mana herself, I'd made my way from the depths of the palace to my room. I had wished that I may have seen Pharaoh alone, but I dared not take the chance of ruining this small peace.

It was just about the time when the moon slipped out from behind the sycamores. I had been walking back towards my room, this time alone and busying my fingers by tapping out the syllables of scripture I'd learned as a child. It always kept me amused; probably because mother used to sing it to me and baby sister. And although the words themselves were more frightening than joyous, the way her supple voice tapped each consonant and glazed each rhyme was more than comforting. Unfortunately, it was the only song Harantatef alowd for her to sing. She could have sung many more beautiful scriptures. Perhaps then I would have learned them better.

"By and by, the days will go. Some fast and some slow. When it comes to the end of me, Lord Osiris will have me plea. Weigh my heart, O God of mine, and decide where I shall part. When I have sinned, I am eternally done. When I have sinned, there will be nowhere to run."

A hint of chortling reverberated from around the corner and parted me from my sentiments. With an uncanny taste of curiosity, I took a few more silent steps that lead me to the wall's end and shot a glance down the hallway. At first I saw nothing but the painting on the walls and the torch lights dancing, but the laughter came again and then a confident mumble. Hasty footsteps patted along the floor, as if someone jumping or dancing and another striding calmly. I walked down the hallway, approaching another in the middle. I then knew where this noise had lead me.

I'd been there before. But not as I was then, listening to the laughter. I was once frightened, nervous, and contemplating all the stories I'd heard from other women. This next hallway, so dark and untouched by the torches, would lead me straight to Pharaoh's bedchamber.

A figure stumbled into view, followed by another more relaxed one. My heart pounded as I made out the features of Nefemnah, the first wife of Pharaoh Atem. She giggled with a drunken excitement, letting loose one of the straps on her tunic. She teased him with seductive words, speaking anything he would want to hear. Atem took her body in his hands and pulled her close, kissing all down her neck and then on her chest. Her head lulled in pleasure. His hands reached for her sash, pulling out the knot and letting it fall to the floor. I watched it all through this tunnel vision, the long, black hallway leading me to her seemed to go on forever.

She opened her eyes again and looked down the hallway at me. She wasn't surprised in the least to see me standing there in the dim torch light. If anything, I'm sure she enjoyed an audience. She smiled at me with victory and conceit, wrapping her arms around Pharaoh as if to proclaim him as her own. The guards standing by the doors tried their very best not to watch and therefore had not seen me either.

Nefemnah whispered something in his ear and pulled him into the bedchamber. The guards closed the door behind them. They seemed to have hoped that the thick walls of the chamber would do their purpose and prevent any sound from seeping through. I, on the other hand, prayed for their sake that the walls should be thick enough to block the odor of Nefemnah's foul _Qefen-t_*.

I slipped back down the path from which I came. My footsteps were loud as I stormed towards my room. I fumed with anger even as I entered the threshold of my chambers and saw Mana stand in greeting.

I went straight for my vanity, flinging every piece of gold jewelry in my path off the table top and careening to the floor. Mana jumped back a little.

"Lady Amunet, whatever is the matter?"

I groaned in frustration while pounding my fist into the alabaster wall.

"Nefemnah."

Mana's eyes widened.

"She has come?"

"Oh, not yet she hasn't." I smirked, knowing that a virgin like Mana would never understand. Mana tilted her head in puzzlement. "She is now within Pharaoh's bedchambers, intending to be the first of us hemet not only to have him beg for the touch of their skin, but to deliver an heir. And she does it so with such seduction, even our divine king is powerless against her."

"I thought Pharaoh already conceived an heir."

"No. He has three daughters; they are royal, but not heirs. Two of Anahknemrure and the other of Nefemnah."

"Oh, yes. Forgive me."

I sat for a moment. My leg would not stop shaking and my heart would not slow down now matter how much I willed it so. I could not help but hear my father's voice echoing in my head to "do whatever it takes" and to "give Pharaoh a male heir". I pondered upon his threat- to have me mummified alive- and imagined all the pain and fear that must have been. It was a degrading fate to die in such a way. And then I could imagine my father giving me a speedy burial. A wooden sarcophagus with few details, blank walls, hand-me-down items simply thrown into my tomb to make it look as though someone cared, and no thought put towards tomb-raiders. And meanwhile I'd be suffocating or bleeding to death within the sarcophagus.

I knew from my own experiences that once Atem was aroused, very few things would deter him. Only things such as serious crises, or perhaps news of a loved one could tear him from his perspiring and bare lover.

A smirk traveled across my lips.

"News of a loved one, eh?" I muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"He shall hear of it. Oh, yes he shall!" I stood.

"Um… Lady Amunet?"

"Mana!" I grabbed her shoulders. "What luck. The Gods must detest Nefemnah as Queen of Egypt and so had bidden fate to fetch you for me."

"I'm afraid I'm not quite following you, my lady." she gave me a concerned, quizzical look as I held her between my hands.

"Quickly now, or it shall be too late." I began digging through my belongings. Finally, I found a useful tool in such a plan as mine. A simple, old dagger that was beaten enough pass for a slave's. It was perfect. No one would suspect it was mine, or more accurately, my sister's. Although this was not it's intended purpose, I had to disobey my sister's wishes if just this once to fulfill them in another time.

Mana spotted the dagger in my hand and jumped back.

"Lady Amunet, whatever it is you are plotting, please- I beg of you to remember all the merriness we've shared today." her voice quivered.

"Oh, hush now, Mana. I remember well. I'm not going to kill you, if that is what you fear."

"Oh?"

"Mana, Pharaoh adores you. You are his friend, and he will not abandon Nefemnah now that she is deep in his bed sheets unless a tragedy should befall someone so dear to him as you."

"Lady Amunet, I beg of you-"

"It'll only be a small wound, as miniscule as the ones you bore when you were a farmer's child."

I reached for her arm, pulling her towards me. I got to my knees and caressed her smooth legs. Pharaoh Atem would surely enjoy them, and far more than Nefemnah's. What he wouldn't do for her undulating thighs beneath him. Virgins were always a favorite of Atem's. I lifted her skirts high. She squirmed uncomfortably, but only for a moment.

"Please, Lady Amunet," she begged.

"We've no time, Mana." I spoke hastily, prodding around her skin for the perfect spot. "I, and only I, can carry the heir of Pharaoh Atem. We must act quickly or Nefemnah should be seeded and perhaps with said male. Do you not understand the severity of the situation?"

At fist she hesitated, but then squeaked an answer. She would have rather been whipped than stabbed, but she knew Atem would figure that I'd been the offender. That would have been counterproductive.

"Good girl." I raised the dagger above her thigh. She looked away and prepared herself for the pain. In one swift blow, I'd pushed the dagger through her inner most thigh, just slightly below the vagina. She let out a small scream, but tried to mask it as well as she could. It went clean through, poking out slightly from the skin beneath her buttocks.

"There, there." I cradled her in my arms like a baby about to be nursed. "That wasn't so bad, was it now, Mana?"

She made no reply but a tiny whimper.

"Hear me well, love. Leave the dagger there to be found when Atem should reach for you. Go you to his bedchamber. The guards will keep watch, and there before them you shall pretend to fall, accidentally stabbing your leg. No one will question a servant's possession of a measly, old dagger in your bag. Everyone knows of Pharaoh's fondness for you, and they shall not hesitate to call him even as he beds his wife. If anyone should ask what business you had there, tell them you wished to speak to Pharaoh in private. Surely Atem could not refuse such a gentle reply from his dear, sweet, childhood friend. It will all seem an innocent accident."

"Y-Yes, m-my lady."

"Go now. Go."

Mana wiggled from my lap and sprinted into the dark hallways as fast as her injury would allow. I waited until I could hear her panting no longer before I began scrambling around to pick up my jewelry and prepare myself for Atem's eyes. Soon, I knew, another servant would come to inform me of Mana's little accident. I too would then go to see her. And there will Atem lay eyes on me again, this time more revealing in clothes and more innocent in intention.

I heard Mana scream, probably the one she had been holding in. I sat on my bed and began calmly brushing my hair as the sound of her cries entreated at my doors. As predicted, a servant came running unannounced in my room. I pretended to be appalled as I was so meagerly dressed. At first the young boy was taken aback by the sight of one of Pharaoh's beautiful and seductively dressed wives, but then he shook his head and remembered his purpose in walking in on me.

"What nonsense is this?" I yelled.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I'm afraid it is urgent. Your handmaiden has been injured. She is just some ways from the Pharaoh's bedchamber."

"Mana? Oh no!" I followed him out, acting as though I'd forgotten the place where I'd lost my very own virginity; once, my most valuable game piece.

Mana laid sprawled out on the floor as I could see from the beginnings of the hallway. Blood seeped from her thigh and tainted the fabric of her tunic. I could have said she was a marvelous entertainer, but I knew that such distress could have hardly been faked. Atem had her head propped onto his quickly clothed lap and held her dearly.

"Mana? Speak to me. Are you alright?"

She nodded. Opening her mouth would have lead to her scream and she dared not do so in Pharaoh's presence. I almost congratulated myself on raising her so well.

"How did this happen? Guards!"

"We'd seen her running, sir, towards your chambers. When I had commanded her to halt, I believe she was caught by surprise and she must have fallen onto her knife. Forgive me, my pharaoh. I was only doing my duty."

He sighed stressfully.

"Where are my surgeons? They should not be taking this long."

Nefemnah was standing in the doorway when I finally made my way through the dark hallway. She wrapped a sheet around herself to cover her naked body, already sodden with sweat and passion. There was nothing more malignant than the look in her beige eyes when she spotted me. I'd given her a quick, victorious smirk before putting on yet another face.

"Mana!" I reached down for my handmaiden, striking fear in my own expression. "Oh, Mana, you foolish girl. I told you to leave your bag in the room. Now look what happened." I sobbed without it sounding too much like an allegation.

I took Mana's hands in mine and she looked up at me. I could not figure if the look in her eyes was resentful or longing, perhaps asking me if I was proud of her for all the pain she had to go through. I wondered if she felt appreciated or if she hated me then. I wondered if she ever imagined such a life or servitude and if I abused that life.

"She will be alright, yes?"

And that was no act. I felt genuinely concerned for her, quickly regretting the measure I had taken to prevent Nefemnah's victory. I told myself that in the morning, all would be well again. Mana would return to normal, and as would I. That sunrise feeling would soon come to me. I almost wanted to taste that peace.

"It is a small wound." Atem looked at me. "But it pierced all the way through her flesh. There must have been a great deal of force to do that; it almost appears malicious."

I looked at Mana and then back at Atem. My eyes took everything in slowly. I thought that maybe he knew it was my intent, but dared not point me out with such a concerned crowd gazing upon us.

"It was an accident." Mana managed to say. "I…I only wanted to see you, my pharaoh. I'd been rushing. The th-thought of seeing you again filled me with such joy. In doing so, however, I fear I've disobeyed my lady and now I'm paying the price."

Both my and Atem's eyes lit up. His heart may have been uplifted with her tender desperation. Alas, I then grew sick to my stomach. Even I knew that that was far too believable to be an act. This whole thing was! I knew then that Mana truly did want to see Atem, and perhaps to tell him of my own plot. He too harvested some sort of secret- and _illegal_- affection for her. In this "accident", I feared I may have brought out those affections even more. And that was the true accident there.

The surgeons came and intruded upon my still moment. Two men stole Mana from the Pharaoh's arms and carried her to the medicine man. Atem and I were left kneeling on the floor, a far cry from our high ranks in society, and our knees tipped with Mana's warm blood. The onlookers left and the guards took their positions at the door again.

"Nefemnah." Pharaoh called without taking his eyes away from me.

"Yes, Pharaoh?"

"Get dressed. I will take my rest for the night."

She hesitated a moment, as if in disbelief. She took one look at Pharaoh's back and hoped he'd quickly recant his statement. He stayed motionless. Then she looked at me with all the fury in her heart and stormed over to her clothes that had been thrown all over his floor.

"Binti el ahba." she hissed as she passed me by when dressed.

_Daughter of a prostitute _she called me. _Daughter of a prostitute_!

I sat there before Pharaoh and bit my tongue. Had I not, I'm sure he would have seen all my refinement and elegance peel away with every degrading slur I only wished I could have screamed in her ears. I clenched my fists and looked away, listening to her footsteps fade.

"Pay no mind to her, Amunet. She is not herself at the moment. See, I sought her out for a more private audience and we'd not expected to be interrupted."

I had not realized that Atem had stood until he reached out his hand to me. I took it gently, wishing I could soak in just slightly more of his godly touch, and stood to meet his eyes.

But had he really thought his somewhat joking response went unnoticed? He'd bedded plenty of women; all of his wives, excluding Ranno, and I'm sure countless others like the maids and nurses and the royal harem. Did he really think that because he outranked me in the amount of times he's bedded that'd I know less about sex than he? I should have expected something like that, though. Women never talked much about sex. Either it was scandalous for a woman to have sex or it was a prayed over ritual. Either way, it was very private, so Atem wouldn't expect a woman who'd only been bedded twice to understand. Twice that he knew of anyways.

I could not help but offer a small chuckle and a witty smile.

"You must forgive me, my dear pharaoh, but I do not intend to be ignorant of your… _audiences_ with Nefemnah. Or the other hemet for that matter."

He too graced me with a gentle laugh.

"So you will not cower behind ignorance as many do who speak before me?"

"If you would permit me to stay as I am, then no I will not. I've always been told that a woman may wear all the fine jewels she desires, but none will shine if she accessorizes with a vacant head."

"Oh, a witty, young woman who bears also a beautiful face. Who shall I punish for such a crime?" he teased.

"Society. All of it. My, how tradition must betray you so. You must be the shame of the Gods."

"What laughingstock I am amongst the divine."

We shared a laugh together. Not a cackle or a howl, but the simplicity of playful banter. Could this have been the side of Atem, our praised, mysterious king, that only so few like Mana knew? I'd never thought I'd be standing before him, teasing him as I had once done so to Meskhenet; my dear baby sister. This dark, brooding man of power was also this charming, at ease sort of fellow with both condescending and entertaining acumen.

I knew Mana's secret just as she knew mine. And I realized why she tried so hard to hide it from me. Who could not adore such a man as he?

"I must confess," I began, "I learned my humor from Mana."

He looked over me with a smile that I could not quite place the source of.

"And of that revolutionary quote of yours, about jewelry and absent-mindedness, was that learned from her as well?"

"I could see why anyone would come to that conclusion, because I am sure she feels just the same. But, alas, I learned it from my mother. As strange as that may sound…"

"Strange? How so?" he gave me a quizzical look.

I was surprised to hear that of all those who unrightfully knew of my past, my own husband was not one of them.

"My mother…she…." I pursed my lips in a depressing laughter, "she _was_ a prostitute, actually."

When I looked up, surprised by my own slip of the tongue, his smile was gone. It had been replaced by a bit of bewilderment and something a little more sympathetic than I was comfortable with. My face heated with redness. I could not believe that I told one of my deepest secrets- and to Atem himself! If anyone knew other than Mana of my mother's social standing, there was a good chance I'd never be made Queen of Egypt and then shall have to face not only the fury of my father, but the resentment of the palace as a whole. I was well practiced at lying and shoving the dark feelings deep down into my gut, but something that night- perhaps the thick scent of blood, or the fumes flying from the incense- had me regurgitate these unwanted truths.

I could feel myself choking on my own breath. Quickly I stepped away from Atem with no way to hide the fear on my face. I'd betrayed my own mother. Not that I thought that Atem would convey this message to all who could hear, but that I'd forever marred my own mother socially and spiritually by revealing to our Pharaoh, our fleshly deity and purest of rulers, her degradation and shame.

"Pharaoh Atem, forgive me.. I…I-"

"You are forgiven, Amunet of the Black Lands."

"Thank you. Your are most kind, dear Pharaoh. Now, if you'll pardon me, I'll be taking my rest."

"Yes, that would be best. Your nerves are probably tired and worried about Mana."

I'd almost forgotten about her. I hadn't thought about her at all now that he mentioned her.

"Yes. Very worried." I bowed my head. "Good night."

"Good night."

I left him standing there in the torch light and alone with no woman in his bed sheets that night. I thought about Mana, stabbing her, and Nefemnah, all that hate surrounding me, my father's threat, and mother's pain, and baby sister, and especially about Atem. And I could not help but question, "what in the world have I gotten myself into?"

End Chapter 4

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><p><strong><span>Qefen-t<span>: **Pretty much the Ancient Egyptian term for "vagina". It's similiar to Coptic, which is the language most similar to what Ancient Egyptians spoke that is still used today.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Hey, beautifuls.**

**Thanks for reading my story.**

**My next update for this fic may be a little while since I'm working on posting a fic for Yule before the holiday actually arrives.**

**But hopefully I can toggle between updating 3 (4?) different fics right now.**

**Bear with me, alright? It's competition season in cheerleading so I'll be very busy... and sore... very, very sore.**

**Tschüß, Schöne Menschen!**


	5. Mana: Sin Under My Skin

**NOTE: THIS CHAPTER IS IN MANA'S P.O.V**

_Vulnerable_. If there could only be one word for how I felt, it was that. And if I could select another; _ashamed_. I'm not saying I was ashamed to be Lady Amunet's servant- I mean, it wasn't that bad, all things considered. And compared to some of the other hemet, as well as a few of my previous masters, Amunet was probably the most lenient of them all. I was ashamed because I no longer had a voice. And it was that voice that had brought me here to the palace, that had snatched the attention of my dearest friend Atem. Sometimes Amunet would search for the voice in me, ask me questions that could only be answered by an opinion, but more and more frequently it seemed that she'd been using its absence to her advantage. But in the end, I was a servant and I had to do well to remember that.

That morning, I awoke in one of the palace's medicine rooms. I was naked, my scars and bruises only hidden by a thin blanket. I couldn't feel the pain right away, but I knew that soon it would come. Isis was talented enough to sew my wound, but I won't lie, it was probably one of the worst pains I'd ever felt. I turned my head to greet Ra as he shined into the room. I let his warmth surround me and soothe me. But then I laid eyes upon the dagger on the table beside my tunic and bag. It was the very same dagger that had been lodged within my flesh and I could see that it still bore traces of my blood.

I traced my fingers along the stitches in my innermost thigh. I thought of how innocently she'd stabbed me, how pure she felt her intentions were, and how easily she assumed I'd accept. And then I thought of lodging that same dagger down her throat. But I could never hate Amunet, or anyone for that matter, for too long. It would only take a few moments after wishing for a tragedy to strike her that I would recall the night I first met her.

She'd just been married to Atem; a girl of only fourteen. It was the first time she ever saw Atem who then had still been very much attached to me. I never minded Atem's wives at first. I knew marriage was a business, and even I had benefited from one of them when he married Ranno, as she then became a close friend of mine. Amunet was the fourth wife and this tension between the hemet hadn't really existed quite yet. But something about her, something I didn't feel so comfortable with, was different. I warned Atem, but he insisted because this union had been agreed upon by his most respectable father. Obviously, Atem was not yet pharaoh.

Then there was Harantatef, the father of the bride. For most of the evening, he'd kept his bulgy fingers gripped around her shoulders and she stood completely inert. In many ways, she was just as I am now- unable to speak without given permission, unable to move from the side of the person you both serve and fear. My old master, Hepuseneb, just so happened to be a good acquaintance of Harantatef. Somehow amongst the drinks and festivities they'd gotten into some sort of disagreement and I was given to Amunet as a wedding present to make amends.

She lost her virginity that night. I know because I was told to wait by the door. She'd been in the room for some time before I'd gotten there. I'd know idea what sex actually was then, nor can I say I completely do now, but I pretended that Amunet's moans and pleas were mine and not hers. Atem was my friend and I had always found him handsome. Always. Why should she have been in his arms and not I? When they finished, Amunet ran out crying- the only time I'd ever seen her do so. I caught up with her by one of the balconies that overlooked the glowing cities of Egypt.

"Lady Amunet?" I approached her. She gave no reply, so I continued forth with caution. "Lady Amunet, I welcome you to the royal palace. Congratulations on your marriage as well. You're a fine match. And my what a wonderful feast that was."

Silence.

"M-My name is Mana. I am your new servant."

She looked at me then. Blood fell from her nose and slipped down into her cleavage. It dyed the collar of her tunic and rolled over her gold necklaces. I saw all the sadness in the world splashing around in her eyes, but not a hint of weakness. Not one single drop.

"We are all servants, and all servants who disobey are beaten. Take heed, for tonight this blood is mine, but tomorrow it shall be yours." she spoke with such venom that she could have frightened the Uraeus. She pushed away from the balcony and scuffled off into the depths of the palace. I wasn't quite sure how to react. Did she not want my comfort? Would she be mad that I'd not followed her into the darkness? But she had already vanished when I thought to chase after her. So I sighed and draped my arms over the balcony railing. I never felt anything more enrapturing than the breeze's freedom like a glaze on my skin. I wanted to grasp that moment for as long as possible, but Atem's voice dragged me into something I knew I had no place in.

"Mana!" he called out from below in the courtyard.

"Atem?"

"Mana, have you seen Amunet?"

"Were you not just with her?"

"Not at all. I've not seen my wife since the ceremony."

"But…then…." I paused. But then who had been within Atem's bedchamber? Who had been roughing Amunet's hair and taking her purity? Who'd been in Pharaoh's bed with Pharaoh's wife?

"Mana?"

"She is within!" I called back. "I'm afraid she is in no good health. Must be homesickness. Wouldn't be the first time, no?"

"No." he said. He waved me off and I stood alone with this secret cutting into my skin. It has stayed there since. This sin, whoever the sinner truly was, found refuge in myself as if it almost knew that I would no longer have a voice to cast it away. Men could have many wives, but not the wives of Pharaoh nor Prince. A royal woman's purity was her most sought after treasure. If Pharaoh did not take it from her, then she was the omen of death.

Amunet prayed that night. And, no, not the usual prayers of whispering scriptures to the incenses and statues. No. She bowed down before all the gods at the Temple of Ba. All I knew was that she went in alone. Not even the priests could hear her prayers.

And perhaps, although I am no goddess, I could forgive Amunet as well. She was strange and unstable. I hated her. But, in that light, she was like a sister to me. I loved her every bit as much as I hated her. Amunet had no friends, a knack for grabbing negative attention, and only one goal that she couldn't even claim as her own. She was cold and twisted, but I knew she didn't always mean to be; or at least, not who she wanted to be. She wanted to be free, she said, she wanted to be _me_. Amunet loved to laugh. That's where I came in. We'd sit nightly by the fire and whisper giggles and trade thoughts. She has taught me many things. Even if from a cynical perspective, I found many of her ways to be true. And I admired her courage, the strength it took to mask all her pain and regret, her fear and her secrets.

I was all she had. So no matter how much I hated her at times, no matter the pain or embarrassment I endured, or whether she whipped my palms or stabbed my legs, I would always forgive her although I found it an obstacle to do so. She was there for me, whether in the shadows from behind or bluntly before me, she was there. She was cruel, but she _was _there. Her lessons were hard to learn, and her thoughts were difficult to encapsulate. But no one knew me as she did, no one tried as she did. And maybe it was because I was the object of her envy, she wanted to know me so she could know who she wanted to be. Sometimes I feared not even Atem tried so hard to see me. And, who knows; that day the blood was mine, but the next, it could have been someone else's.

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><p>"I will see her now." Atem's voice crawled under the doors. I heard them open and his footsteps slowly turn the corner to face me. I pulled the blankets up to my neck and sat up. I knew I should have bowed, as I was so low in society, but I was torn between greeting him and worrying about the blankets slipping from my skin. I lowered my head and waited for him to call my eyes to his.<p>

"Mana." his deep voice always sounded so soothing when he spoke my name. I lifted my gaze and found his velvet eyes like it were a force of habit to stare into them.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Better." I smiled. "Still sore, but thanks to Isis I should be good as new in no time."

"That is good to hear. I confess, when I saw you there screaming in blood, I'd thought it'd been more fatal. I was worried…about you."

"Oh, forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you, Pharaoh."

"I've not been pharaoh as long as we've been friends, Mana, there is no need to address me as pharaoh all the time. It gets rather tedious to be proper all the time, don't you think?"

"Sometimes. Sorry, Phara- Atem, I mean." I laughed. He did not, however. I could not quite put my finger on it, but he was acting odd. He seemed distracted by a contemplation, perhaps; a thought that would not die.

"Atem…" I called him to me. He sat on the bed beside me and sighed before taking a warm look at me. He smiled.

"Why is your voice so comforting?"

"Why are your thoughts not?"

He paused, looking down at the floor. He waited until all noises had ceased as though nature itself obeyed him as well. The birds hushed, the footsteps distant in the palace faded, and the wind stilled.

"The royal court believes that I should select a queen. Even Set and Mahad, my most trusted friends, have advised me that is best to do so."

I was surprised by how morosely he spoke, as if the thought of choosing a queen made him ill. I felt again that he trusted me to lead him in emotional times. He'd never been so talented as to deal with emotions healthfully. I was in his full confidence.

"And what do you think of it?"

"I am unsure. I know of the benefits of having a queen; someone to share the responsibility of ruling, someone to deal with papers and judgments, someone to take the throne whilst I am away and maintain order. But I fear that regardless of which of the hemet I choose, the people will be unhappy."

"Why is that?"

"They're all missing something. They've all some sort of flaw, and not simple flaws that could easily be overlooked, but _liabilities_. Nefemnah lacks political understanding and she's far too promiscuous to be in court. Marhamaat lacks composure and refinement, and Ranno lacks courage and opinion all together. Anahknemrure has the attention span of a sparrow and the education of a baboon. Adrasteia is a high candidate, but she doesn't even know how to speak our language and her being from Rome could be both an asset _and _a danger to Egypt. The court believes Sitamun is most suitable, as she is of royal blood being my cousin and all. But she is merely a child, having been sheltered all her life and she holds no talent other than to dance or pray. She knows nothing of the world, or the court for that matter."

"And what of Amunet?"

I could see the thoughts in his eyes. He wanted to think over a response, how to word it correctly and perhaps carve lesser sentences away from insults.

"Mana… I do not comfortable with this."

"Atem," I reached for him, "I care not if you think ill of Amunet. I know it is hard to like her. Whatever your thoughts on her may be, my opinion of both you and her shall not change from this conversation. If you fear I shall convey your words unto her, I promise you I will not. True, she is my owner, but you are my Pharaoh."

He sighed.

"Amunet is wise and very accomplished. Other than Nefemnah and Marhamaat, she is the only other hemet who is literate and well-versed. She carries herself with far more propriety and elegance than most hemet, but I fear that is compensating for something; perhaps something more sinister, as she does well to keep it hidden. Mana, she is far too unpredictable. That is why I fear for you more than anyone. And she craves power, that is no secret to anyone. No, more accurately, she demands power. That combination of instability and her needing to domineer does not add up well for her future, Mana."

I sat silent for a moment. He was spot on about Amunet, and as much as I hated to admit it, her future did not look bright at all. If that was the case, then I knew that my future would not look so bright either. I didn't even want to imagine what Amunet would do, who she would turn into, if she was not chosen Queen of Egypt. But what of her father? I was quite positive that Lord Harantatef would make due on his threat to mummify her alive. Believe me, he didn't seem the type of man to lie about _that_. As frightened as I was for my own sake, I had also been equally as terrified for hers. I never did like lying, or promising things I wasn't entirely sure of myself- especially when it was promising things for other people, but I had to do something. I could not just sit there and ponder about my demise.

"But Amunet can give you a son." I blurted out. By the time I let the last sound fall from my lips, I wanted to take it all back. I was instigating, stepping into something I knew I could not handle. I was promising something that I myself could not deliver. As a servant, and maybe as a person, I felt ashamed. The sin that had inched its way beneath my skin from the night I met Amunet began clawing at me again. All these secrets and lies, and I'd fed them again that day with Atem at my bedside.

His eyes were harsh upon me, like the dagger that had stabbed, and the whip that had lashed.

"And what makes you so positive of that? How do I know you are not simply telling me this because you are her servant?"

"Because I am your friend, dear Atem. I know of this because she has prayed for it. Yes. Every night she wishes to Hathor herself that she be blessed with the seed of your heir. She is fertile, this I assure you. I would know, for I am the one that sees to it that the days she bleeds from between her legs are marked and she is well cared for. Next week she will bleed. It is every waning-crescent moon. That means that this week, she is as fertile as the silt from our lady Nile. If you wish to secure an heir, then I would ask- no, beg- that you bed her soon."

"And she will not deliver me another girl? I've already fathered three daughters, I need no more."

"She will birth you a son. If she does not, then you may dispose of us as you please. But if she does, which I am positive she will, you must promise to make her your queen."

He mulled it over in his head.

"Such powerful words for a servant, Mana. But, then again, you've always been so headstrong. I accept your proposal. If Amunet is to deliver me an heir by the year's end, then she will be queen."

"Oh, thank you, Atem. Thank you. You are most gracious."

He then stood from the bed and began walking away. I thought he may have wanted something more from me. Perhaps, he had not wanted to discuss his other wives at all. I realized it then in the way he stepped away from me. He wanted to stay by my side, he wanted to talk about _us_. He did not want to discuss heirs and wives. How foolish of me! He wanted to come to forget all that, so that I may do as I have done in the past and help ease his stress. And I had failed him.

"Mana…" his voice wrapped around my name so tenderly again.

"Yes, Atem?"

"Last night….It wasn't an accident, was it?"

I could feel myself sink into my bed when I exhaled a long, miserable breath. He knew I had lied to him. But if he only understood why. I had no choice! Right?

My silence confirmed his suspicions and he began walking away again.

"Atem," I called in as sweet and as longing of a voice I could muster, "I really did want to see you again, though."

He said nothing and left the room.

End Chapter 5

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><p><strong>Wow, ok then, I guess I updated quicker than I thought. Still very sore, though.<strong>

**Finally there is a Mana POV chapter. There are only a few of them. So far I've only written two, because I don't like switching narrators too, too much.**

**Thanks for reading! Hope you liked Mana-vision for this chapter. :D**

**Review, if you'd be so kind?**

**Tschüß, Schöne Menschen!**


	6. Without Any Gods

"It is so very nice to make all your acquaintances." Sitamun greeted. Only Ranno, Anahknemrure, and Adrasteia would return her smile. All of the hemet lounged around in the ladies' drawing room. It was a fine room with a high ceiling and a grand window opening to a view of the city in the distance. We were surrounded by silk sheets and pillows, all of the finest designs, and drew ourselves out on the many long chairs. Wines and fruits were spread out along the golden tables and stands, as was a game of Senet that entertained both Ranno and Marhamaat. From the blue skies, our dear Horus warmed our skins. Compared to most days in Egypt, the air was quite cool and welcoming.

"Well then," Nefemnah spoke above everyone else after downing the last of her wine, "now that we are all acquainted, who shall be first to entertain us all?"

"Oh, Adrasteia shall! I just adore her singing voice!" Anahknemrure volunteered for her.

"Goodness, no. My songs are all Roman. Why not you, Nefemnah? I've not seen you dance in so long. I've always loved watching your performances." she spoke with her accent.

"Oh I've only one form of dance, dear. And I see no swords here for me to use."

"Only one form, Nefemnah? Is sex not considered an art then, because I heard you're quite the proficient." teased Anahknemrure.

The wives all laughed merrily. Perhaps I'd been seeing things, but it seemed to me that we were all getting along for once. Nefemnah reached over the table and grabbed the wine from Ranno.

"I'm afraid I've not yet had enough wine to reply to that. Come on, ladies. More drinks then."

Nefemnah was always one to begin any sort of entertaining. She was also the first to slur her words and the first to lose any self-control. Even drinking wine and beer as we all did for meals, or even completely sober, she was very ostentatious when she had a crowd. She was a sword dancer from Nubia, and the daughter of a nobleman. Surely she was accustomed to parties and opulence. She always shone brightest when all eyes were on her.

Anahknemrure might as well have been her acolyte. She was a very seductive woman as well, of course, the only difference being that her head was completely empty. Still, the two seemed to be very close. Anahknemrure was slightly larger than the rest of us hemet, and therefore was seen as the most fertile of us all. The fact that she gave Pharaoh two of his three daughters only added to that belief. Although no one said it directly, we all knew that Pharaoh enjoyed her sexual company the most. She was easy to fool and her breasts were the largest any of us had ever seen; and I'd been raised in a well-known prostitution district.

We all took another large chalice of wine and let it slide down our throats.

"What about you, Marhamaat? Will you not indulge us in more of your 'predictions'?"

"Ah, see, but your future, Nefemnah, is no secret to anyone here. Should you drink anymore, within the hour you shall be running ramped, completely undressed, and yelling down the halls of the palace; 'there is a cobra in my skirts, a cobra!'"

I laughed along with the women, thinking back to that night so long ago. I watched everyone poor more wine then. It was a drinking ring almost, and I was quite positive I knew who the leader was. I put down my cup which had not yet been empty and Nefemnah's eyes shot immediately up to mine. She hated that I'd figured it out.

"Aw, will you never let me forget that? You're positively cruel. All of you." she took another long sip and laughed decently enough.

"Did that really happen?" Sitamun questioned excitedly. Anahknemrure stood, drink in hand, and laughed her way to Nefemnah's side.

"Well, once there was a great feast that would celebrate one of Pharaoh Atem's many victories. We'd all been invited- see, he'd not yet married you, dear Sitamun. Nefemnah, after performing another one of her daringly sensual fire-sword dances, found it in her best interests to drink more than she'd thirsted for. Half way through the meal, and this eloquent charmer stands up violently and screams to the gods that there'd been a cobra in her skirts. She had to be escorted out, where then she peeled form her clothes in search of the cobra and ran down the halls of the palace. Oh, Ra Almighty, if you'd only seen Atem's face. Why, he was redder than the sand dunes at sunset."

"Oh, you're all so very indecent." Ranno gawked. "Let us not forget that whilst it was happening, you were cackling as if you were mad. I've never seen Marhamaat enjoy herself so thoroughly, but you certainly had. Even Adrasteia and Amunet were laughing wildly."

"That we are quite guilty of, dear. But do not fail to remember that many of the nobles themselves were not talented enough to stifle their laughter either. Besides, the conversations were so dreadfully boring that we'd needed such a laugh." I chuckled.

"Yes. Do not be so prude, Ranno." Nefemnah dove towards Ranno, leaping from one chair to another and poured Ranno some more wine. "Come now, love. Even Marhamaat is capable of enjoying herself, if even a little."

"Hey!"

"I am not so prude. I know plenty about enjoying myself." huffed Ranno. Nefemnah's eyes grew as wide as her smile. Each of us shared a look with another and Ranno was at a loss.

"What?" she questioned sheepishly.

"Oh, so you _do_ know how to enjoy yourself. My, my, Ranno. After all this time, you've been only fooling us. Whose bed have _you _shared?"

"Ugh! Why, no one's, of course. Is that all you ladies think about? Sex?"

"Ha-ha, oh Ranno. You're so cute. I mean, it's not a crime you know… to think about sex, I mean. It's not always connubial, or business, or heirs, Ranno. Sometimes you'll find it can be quite pleasurable." she cupped Ranno's breasts and began kissing her ear.

"N-Nefemnah! What are you-"

"She's already pert. How quaint." Nefemnah teased, showing everyone Ranno's hardened nipples poking at her tunic. The women all laughed along with her, but I could not.

I never knew sex to be pleasurable, not even with Atem. I had too many doubts, too many fears. As much as I detested her, sometimes I wished I could have been like Nefemnah, able to let loose and enjoy herself as she see fits. She was so beautiful and free, able to stop a man in his tracks with one look. We all knew she'd had many suitors and even more lovers. She had six children, only one of whom was Atem's. Even if she were to be queen, it wasn't like that would slow her down. She wasn't like me at all. She was free. She was like a more promiscuous Mana.

"Have you ever even seen a man naked before?"

"I refuse to answer that!"

"Oh, so you _have_!"

All our games were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing. We all turned our heads to find Atem marching in. Ranno leapt in embarrassment that her nipples were pert at the worst of times, falling from her chair and onto the floor with a yelp. We giggled as quietly as we could; not that it worked much.

"What is all this laughter I hear?" Atem briefly glanced at each of us. He'd obviously been surprised that we'd not clawed each other up by then.

"Oh, no! There is a man in our quarters. Whatever should we do, ladies?" Nefemnah acted out.

"Perhaps Ranno could put her practices to use finally." teased Sitamun.

Another laugh.

"You're all cruel!" Ranno cried from the floor. "I will not ever stand again, you cruel, cruel, sadistic women! I shall need more wine!"

Nefemnah was happy to oblige, snatching up her chalice and pouring wine into it.

"Is that Ranno there on the floor?"

"Why, yes it is, my dear pharaoh. See, she was so excited by your presence that she fainted… like a shocked little virgin! Sad it is really…"

Atem was not amused by Nefemnah's antics in the least. He sat down with a sigh in the middle of our circle and rubbed his temple.

"Atem, love, what troubles you?" came Anahknemrure. That was the queue to cuddle around him, sitting idly by his feet, or lovingly at his sides, or massaging his shoulders like Nefemnah. I was the only wife who did not move from her place. After what happened last night, all I wanted was some distance from him and his daunting eyes.

Come to think of it, I never wanted to be close to him in the first place. In the way he sat there, his many wives so eager to please him, I saw a bit of my father. Atem had a way of silencing an entire room with the look in his eyes, and not simply because he was pharaoh. Had he been a commoner I feel it would still be the same. Atem may not have always known exactly what he wanted in life, but he sure knew how to get it and when. Like Harantatef, he was also silent and serious, although I'd seen his other side; his playfulness and willingness to explore new possibilities. But who knew the extent of that? In the end, you just didn't question Atem.

He reminded me of my father because he had power. Power over everyone he met, power over your nightmares and your dreams, power over _me_.

I was almost afraid to move.

"Yes, Atem. Will you not tell us what is wrong?" Sitamun prodded, forcing me to see Atem in the arms of these women and not my father. At fist Atem only stared at nothing in particular. It was as though he had to seep in some form of spite to perfect the amount of aggressiveness or frustration he wanted his sentences to bear.

"It astounds me," he began with a darkness that I could almost taste, "how some people can be so fortunate and without even realizing it. The people we meet in this world, as some may seem petty, or insignificant, or without a voice… they are the same people who are loyal when they don't have to be, or silent when they have everything wise to say, or keep secrets that don't have to be kept."

Each consonant in his words stabbed a little harder than the last. He was talking to me above the heads of his obedient wives, addressing my sins and vices in plain sight. The only ones who could see it were myself, him, and a devilishly grinning Nefemnah. I'd known from the start to never underestimate her.

She cocked an eyebrow with her smirk and slid her hands down his chest. Atem placed a hand on her arm and closed his eyes for a moment, giving her all the permission she needed to proceed. I'm sure I wasn't the only hemet who could feel the sting of anger swelling in their bosom. Atem may not have found her personality very agreeable, but he seemed quite fond of how Nefemnah would pamper and pleasure him.

"I do not like when people lie to me, assuming I do not notice. Do they think I am a fool?"

"Oh, no, Atem. You are no fool!" the hemet concurred.

"They are fortunate, however… very fortunate. Perhaps, by some revelation, they should begin to count their blessings, for I am not to be trifled with."

His words stirred the already boiling pot of hate I'd made in the pit of my stomach. I eyed him like prey, like how my father eyed me or my mother. It may not have been wise to challenge him, as he was indeed pharaoh, but taking well to threats was not something I was capable of. No, threats were something I was raised to be angered at. Something I was meant to fight against. But I couldn't, not in that situation. Atem was Pharaoh, he was the most powerful man from lands far and wide.

Ranno came around to hand him a desperately needed goblet of wine. He took it and waved her off smoothly, hoping the drink would still his aggravated nerves. He through it all down quickly like a commoner in the nightly squares of the prostitution districts.

"Oh, poor Pharaoh." Anahknemrure cooed.

"Yes. You seem so stressed, love. Will you have another wine?"

"As tempting as it is, I must decline. I've much business to attend to. I do not wish to be as unstable as you ladies."

"Unstable?" Nefemnah cawed.

"Your hands smell of wine and cheap ale, Nefemnah. I advise you that you not drink anymore until dinner. Even then, it may be best that your thirst is not quenched considering your history."

Even I smirked at that when the other hemet dove into a giggling fit.

"As you wish, my pharaoh." she curtseyed with a drunken glee. I could not tell if she truly had drank too much or not. She was quite the actress. And if it was her goal to get the others drunk, then she had no reason to be as well.

Atem only stayed with us for a little while longer. As well attended to as he was, the massages, the overflowing compliments, the presence of beautiful women all around him, he seemed quite bored. Perhaps it was because he knew a good deal of the hemet were slightly drunk; Nefemnah the most obvious. But he was still lost in his twisted contemplations, bored of the same old faces and the meretricious women he called his wives.

Eventually all the hemet disbanded, their words slurred and their feet tripping on another's. It continued all throughout the day, always their laughter echoing throughout the palace. While the others were off on their merry way, I stayed alone in the drawing room. Or so I thought. I hoped to find solitude sitting by the openness of the window. The floor simply ended, and I was able to dangle my feet over the edge. I swung them around in the cool air, the peace of that moment. Sunset came again and the tiniest bit of relief found its way into my heart. I knew that Ra would awaken again and greet me with yet another test; to live through another day.

"Well, well." a prideful, shameless voice snickered from the dark side of the room. "Amunet, how pleasant to find you still here. You're just the type of person I've been searching for."

"And what type is that, may I ask?"

"The type that should never be underestimated."

I stood to meet Nefemnah eye to eye. She had a brilliant glow to her, half of herself being in the shadows and half in the rays of a golden sunset. She came towards me full of readiness and power.

"What do you want?"

"Do not be so aggressive, dear Amunet. I only wish to talk."

"Alright then. I am listening."

"You are an odd one, Amunet, and I'm afraid that I've greatly misjudged you."

She waited for me to make a reply, but I wished to speak as little as possible.

"You knew that I wanted to make the others overindulge in the wine, and therefore you barely took a sip. If there is one thing Atem dislikes more than blind, giggling females, it's _drunken_, blind and giggling females. But you are smarter than them, Amunet. Which is why I respect you with the utmost loathing. I must warn you, I do not take kindly to threats, and just your presence here is quite threatening. I _will_ be queen, Amunet, and I will destroy anyone who gets in my way. I do promise you that."

"I find it strange how similar we are." I began, my voice collecting all the shadows I'd been whipping back down for years. "Coincidentally, I do not take so kindly to threats either. It almost seems as though you took the exact words from my mind. I too am quite accustomed to removing the incessant obstacles from my path."

"Hmph. It takes someone just as cunning and as twisted as the plotter to see through the plans. Which I gather means you've been up to no good as well, especially considering your previous comment. So I am curious as to whether the blood of a servant equates to the gold of a crown?"

I smirked at that.

"Mana is not just a servant. She is Atem's dearest friend and longest relationship. My winning card in this awful, awful game of life."

"Is she now? My, that is very interesting. Very interesting indeed. I wonder, how did she come to be in your possession? Was it that father of yours, Lord Harantatef?"

"How do you know my father?" I tasted the venom churning in my mouth then. Just at the mention of my father, I wanted nothing more than to scream such curses that would have surely damned my eternal soul.

But then she laughed.

"Oh, who doesn't know him, child? I myself found him quite the charmer when once we conversed. I believe it was when Atem married Marhamaat."

I seethed. I did not want to listen to anymore of this. The shadows on the walls came for me. Everything was beginning to collapse, slowly but steadily.

"But, come now, tell me. Wherever did your father find Mana? Surely Pharaoh's dearest friend would not be found on any regular slave market. Was she sold to him by a noble perhaps?"

"Do not call him my father." I'd thought I spoken the words, but I knew she did not hear them.

"Or," a pitch of evil strung her voice, "perhaps she was traded by a noble, maybe even Atem himself, to have your sweet mother on her knees."

In a blur of shadows and movement, I jolted towards her and dug my fingers into her neck. She choked on a scream and I could feel her heart thumping faster and faster beneath my fingertips. She grabbed my wrists in an attempt to unlatch me and she ended up tossing me into the pillar behind, but I simply would not let go. She kept trying to tug me off, pushing me harder against the pillar, kicking at my legs, and swatting at my head. In a final struggle, she tried one last time to unhook my nails from her tightening neck. I looked down briefly at the floor, where one of my feet was almost dangling off the edge.

With all my anger and strength, I flung Nefemnah out of my grasp and over the edge. She could finally breathe again with her neck free from my hands, and she gasped her very last breath. I stopped. It was quiet for the longest time, like I could watch my life go by again and I'd still be there waiting for something to happen. I'd only realized what I'd done- completely registered the reality of it all- when I heard what sounded like a rock smashing and breaking the bark of a tree. A tingling sensation started in my legs and then rose into my chest. It popped my ears and sent all the blood rushing to my head. My legs trembled, almost giving out beneath me.

Blood had already filled the cracks in the pavement when I'd looked down to ensure that this hadn't all been in my imagination. I killed her. I really did. I killed Nefemnah, the first wife of Pharaoh Atem, a mother of six who I could imagine crying at the news of their mother's death. I saw her father, although I'd never truly seen him before, and her mother. Both shocked, both loving parents heartbroken by the death of a beloved daughter. I thought of her friends, the young girls who aspired to be her one day, the men who doted on her so.

I stole that from them. Each and every one of them. I did it. There was no way to run from it. But I would not realize the severity of such a sin until late.

At first I could only stare at the damage I'd done. But then I began to walk back from the window, slowly and seemingly in a stunned state. I then ran from the scene immediately after coming to my senses. I shot a glance down every corridor and every threshold, fearing, knowing, that someone would me spot running. I could not allow my place in the palace to be threatened. I just couldn't. Suddenly I couldn't think straight- maybe I never had to begin with. But my body told me to stop, give up, curl up on the floor and hope that the gods would strike me down. Every part of me felt weak and winded.

I wandered far across the palace to a place where I knew I could find a wholesome solace. It wasn't so much a room, but a veranda with a view that leaned away from the cities. Across the desert sands, lightning illuminated a land beyond the distant mountains. The lightning cracked and whipped and only gentle thunders could be heard if listened for. Dark clouds shrouded the foreign region while I was still out in the open, in plain view of the sun god.

"I survive still, Meskhenet…" I whispered to my sister. I had hoped that somehow she'd find a way to hear those words, perhaps so that they would bring her comfort and maybe she'd feel proud of me. "I survive…"

"Amunet?" I could see my sister's face smiling at me. Her voice was as soft as the ripples in the Nile waters. I could almost smell her; the scent of fig fruits and juniper. A warmth came across my back and she called my name yet again. I turned, ready to embrace my dear Meskhenet, when I saw Atem standing in her place, his hand on the small of my back.

"Amunet?" his voice grew slightly aggravated. I'm sure the light in my eyes dimmed and my smile faded. Meskhenet was never there. Atem's hand across my back grew cold and weightless.

"Pharaoh Atem." I glumly greeted with a bow. I dared not look him the eye. I didn't trust- _know?_- myself then. His eyes surely would have been my undoing. I prayed that Atem did not see me run, that he did not know of Nefemnah's death. I knew no gods would listen to me then, however. There was nothing but a thin string of lies left standing between me and the sack they'd tie me in when I'd be drowned in the Nile.

"Is everything alright, Amunet?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes." I barely spoke. "Yes, everything is well. Thank you."

"Well, that is good then. I did not think I'd find you here, so far from the main rooms."

"Forgive me. I will leave if you wish me to."

"No, no. It is no problem at all. Just curious as to why here of places to be at this hour in the evening."

"Oh. I wanted to see the sunset… and not from the other side of the palace. I've seen the city so many, many times. The sunset takes my mind off of things."

I could feel my composure returning to me steadily. I felt it in the smoothness of my voice and the slowing of my heart. Atem said nothing, taking the time to assess me. I turned back towards the mountain storm that still had so far to travel until it reached the city walls.

"I know you were talking about me when we were in the drawing room. I feel terrible for doing it. It's been haunting my thoughts all day." I said confidently. He sucked in a breath of air. He wasn't ready for how blunt I was. Instead, I could tell that he wanted to be the one to bring it up in the hope that he'd catch _me_ off guard. But I was stronger then. I was one foot over the line and it felt like I could control the winds, the waters, and the sands.

"Yes, I was. I know you stabbed Mana for your own selfish reasons. You do not intend to cower behind another lie? You are lucky, Amunet. That I can not emphasize enough. If it were not for Mana's generosity, I'd have had you sent to the mines where you should work until you die." he spat.

"Here I am, speaking to you the only honesty I can offer, and being tossed to the lions."

He looked at me like I'd cut off his tongue.

"You said that perhaps I should begin to count my blessings. Well, I want you to know, in case anyone should care to know, that I've been counting my blessings since I was very young. Still, I can count all of them on one hand. One; my sister loves me. Two; I have someone as dependable and as kind as Mana. Three; one day, maybe one day soon, I shall be dead."

Atem was surprised without so much looking like it. In the way he saw me then, I could tell something had changed. He knew I'd lied to him, he knew I'd stabbed Mana, he knew I was alone in the world, he knew Mana would not want me dead, he knew he _did_ want me dead, and he knew _I_ wanted to be dead. The least he offered me was the closeness of his body when he came by my side and leaned against the railing with me. He did not forgive me that day. In truth, he never did at all. He would not bring it up, however, for he was far too business-oriented and fair. But he would always keep watch to ensure I'd never do anything like that again. I could figure that all for myself.

We watched the lightning dance while our sunset shined through the storm. We let the sandy winds grace us, and listened as the world quieted down for the night.

"Those storms hardly make it past the mountains." he said. I looked at him ardently, like I wanted him to know of the future to come. I wanted him to stop me from doing more damage, from fulfilling my goal. I wanted him to see all my battles in my eyes and command his executioners to silence them.

"Oh… I think they will this time."


	7. A Dalliance

Atem ground his hand into my wrist. His fingers dug deep into my skin as if to perch just above the bone. He maliciously forced me to hurry alongside him whilst he navigated through the halls of the palace. We were soaked, having been surprised by a wind that blew rain onto the veranda. He was none too pleased about that, but he was even less pleased that I'd been right about the storm.

The first rains of the year struck hard against the ceilings of his regal palace. Their echoes, combined with the barrage of thunders, only added to the ferocity of acoustics and the swarm of events. Lightning flashes snaked around our bodies and around every heseb* of the palace. Our grizzly shadows were cast all about.

Everything spun around me before I could even grip what had happened. Just moments ago, Atem and I had been solemnly admiring the storm from afar. Horus dipped below the horizon once more and darkness covered the land of Egypt. Then the storm leapt over the mountains as I had predicted and the winds came without mercy. Sand filled the air and then the rain followed. The next thing I knew, Atem had his hand constricting around my wrist and had pulled me from the balcony with such a force. He didn't say a word and that's what frightened me the most.

I was lost, both mentally and physically, until we came across the narrow hallway where I had seen Atem pecking at Nefemnah's neck just nights before and where he and I had shared a laugh in Mana's blood.

His bedchamber.

The guards immediately threw open the door and stepped aside like they'd been blown away by the force of Pharaoh's aggression and frustrations. Atem threw me inside- and quite literally- taking his arm and flinging me until I almost lost my footing. The doors slammed behind him. I was alone with him, suffocating on his anger and the unmitigated tension in the room. My heart was thumping, trying to escape between the openings in my rib cage. I wanted to breathe, but my lungs denied me that pleasure. My mouth wouldn't open, my mind wouldn't stop wandering.

I looked around and recognized nothing but the golden bed where I had regrettably been bedded thrice. I bled there once, and not from where it was expected. The first, and the worst of them, was when I'd been married. Unknown to Atem, it was not _his _weight that had been sprawled over me whilst I lost the one virtuous thing I could ever give. It was father's way of bidding me farewell, of engraving his dominance over me and his unwavering power over my hopes, dreams, and fears into my memory. I would never forget that lesson. He wouldn't let me. The very thought of Harantatef upon me made my stomach churn. Even the second time, when it had been with Atem, it was marital ritual proposed to say that I was his, Pharaoh's property. And the third, Atem was determined to have me seeded. I was not fertile then.

Atem tossed his cloak to the ground. My eyes widened and I stepped slightly back towards the wall. He never took his deep velvet eyes from me, and in them, I saw nothing but his disprizing and loathing.

"Get on the bed." he ordered in a way that sounded like he were scolding a child or small animal. Sheepishly, I toddled across the room, looking back with questioning eyes and waiting for him to recant. He did not. I slid onto the sheets and laid myself down. I kept my eyes up on the canopy of his bed, laying trapped within my thoughts and insecurities. Regret and fear grew thick in my blood and I could feel my body grow heavy. I could hear Atem remove his gold bands and his Millennium Puzzle. His footsteps came nearer to me and I gripped the sheets for dear, insignificant life.

I tried breathing through my nose when I could feel a whimper inching its way up my throat. My breath was growing shorter and shorter the more I tried to stifle any noise. He crawled over me, his bare skin just grazing me. Atem wasted no time. He scrapped my skin tearing me from my tunic and jewels. He was not gentle; not like the first two times he'd bedded me. He hated me. He hated that he was doing this. He didn't want to, I told myself. I knew Atem well enough to conclude that he was only doing this to procure an heir. He was fulfilling the last of his human part of being pharaoh; and that was to sire a son. A son that he felt I could give him.

He felt me resist uncomfortably beneath him and he was not very fond of that. He took both my hands in only one of his and pressed me harder into his sheets.

"You will endure," he spoke vehemently, "And you _will _give me a son."

I nodded and sucked in a sorrowful breath of air. He thrust himself into me and I wanted to cry. I just laid there with my eyes either stuck upwards or tightly closed. I wanted the dams in my eyes to come crashing down and let all the tears fall free. I wanted, but I couldn't. Instead, I looked up the entire time and wished for it all to be over soon. I wasn't sure whether to feel some twisted pride that I'd gotten another chance to be seeded with the Pharaoh's heir, or whether to scream out all of my afflictions and pain. Was this my purpose in life, to be dominated over? To deliver the long awaited heir of Pharaoh Atem? To please my father? To kill?

I imagined the sweat shining on my skin were embalming oils. I wished that the sheets were the tender wrappings with which Anubis would cover me in. I pretended that the sound of my heart beating and Atem thrusting was the sound of someone nailing my sarcophagus shut. I wanted to die there. Right then and right there. I didn't care if it hurt or if it was quick, as long as I died, it was a relief to be away from this world and all the rotting, disgusting waste that lived in it.

I was seeded. I was with child. Perhaps, a male child. And then I wondered what that would mean for me. Could I bear such a responsibility as motherhood? I knew there would be a nurse or two for the baby because I was one of the royal hemet and wouldn't have to take part in such motherly things. I would hardly raise the child at all. He'd be here with his father, raised by nurses, and learning from his father how to control the people and speak to the gods. But then what would that make me- if anything at all?

Even after Atem removed himself from me and sat depressively at the edge of the bed, I laid there still, almost stunned. I wasn't even positive if this all had really happened. I felt locked in my body, unable to move, unable to escape. I blinked as little as possible; not because I wanted to, but because perhaps I wasn't even there. In my own head, I mean. I couldn't remember how long I'd been in his room, how pleasurable the sex might have felt, or if it even happened at all. But I was there; dominated over and stale.

"Birth me an heir." he said sharply. I stayed completely still. "A son, you hear? I've already three daughters and have no use for another."

"Yes, Pharaoh." I hardly spoke.

"Good. Do that… and you shall be queen."

I felt him leave the bed and for some reason, I was not overjoyed at hearing those words. All that time and I thought those words were all I ever wanted to hear. I wanted to be queen so badly that I'd hurt Mana, I'd killed Nefemnah, I'd listened to my father. But I also lost myself. No, I lost myself years before I even married. But I only realized that I'd been gone when he spoke those words to me.

_Give him a son and I shall be queen_.

I wanted to die.

* * *

><p>Although the lightning and thunder didn't survive the night, the rain still prevailed into the morning. I sat alone at a long table, seated before an even longer window that gave me the view of the entire city. Cries and sniffles wound in and out of the rain, most of them from Anahknemrure and Ranno, but some came from the servants and Adrasteia as well. I stared at a glass of wine while listening to their hushed voices. They whispered sweet nothings, the ignorant condolences we were all obligated to pay.<p>

I was still numb, still dry of ambition and frozen in spite. But I was also rejuvenated, as strange as it was. No one, not even Atem himself, considered that Nefemnah was murdered. For Atem was a witness, as well as Ranno and the other trustworthy hemet; Nefemnah was drunk at the time of her death. She must have fallen to her death while suffering from hallucinations of grandeur. What strange, disorienting luck had been bestowed upon me.

"Your Grace?" a mousy voice slipped past my contemplations. Mana stepped past the threshold with a slight limp, but wearing a smile that compensated for it all.

"Mana." I gasped with relief fleeing from every part of me. "Oh, Mana, I am so sorry."

I ran to her, pulling my dearest Mana into me. She seemed rather shocked- and she had every right to be- but replied with the returning of my hug.

"All is forgiven, my lady." she whispered tenderly. I really wished she hadn't said that. I looked her over. Maybe it was in her absence that I failed to recognize how truly beautiful she was, but even on the ugliest of days in Egypt, she seemed to have replaced the sun itself. It made me sick.

I turned away from her, bearing some sort of loss and sorrow upon my face that I don't recall ever placing there. I enjoyed her presence as it made me feel again in power. Whenever she was gone, I was ruled. But I was glad to see her well, to see her standing before me as a charming young girl, forever faithful and dreaming. Mana was the epitome of all that I gave up aspiring to.

"Lady Amunet," she inquired cautiously, "forgive me for my ignorance, but why is all the palace grim? Not a face smiled on my way to meet you."

I took my seat again with a sigh.

"Nefemnah died last night."

"What?"

"Yes. I feel dreadful about everything I've done to ruin her, every hateful word I cursed to her and behind her." I fibbed.

"Oh, how sad. How could this have happened?"

"Nefemnah met her demise from a horrid fall after she drank herself to an unsteady state. We all mourn for her. Her children and Anahknemrure more than anyone. They've been summoned, you know; her children. All six of them, so that we may all join in the casting of spells and lay presents in her tomb. She's been awarded a pleasant catacomb in Atem's tomb. They've already begun the process of mummification in Ibu*."

"At least that is good news then. The sooner the better so that she may not be awaiting in Neter-Khertet* for so long. I know she shall enjoy herself in the afterlife, and I assume most other spirits shall find amusement in her presence there as well. She has a good Ba*."

"Yes. A good Ba.

We remained in silence for a very slow, deranged moment. Anahknemrure could still be heard sobbing from her room and a servant tending to her every need. Mana awaited for further instruction as though she were eager to break that very silence. Like always, the silence was what killed her.

"Mana?"

"Yes, my lady?"

I could not look at her.

"If I were to bear a child- Pharaoh's child- would you hate it if I appointed you to be its nurse?"

Something clicked in her mind. I saw it in the way her eyes awakened and in the way her stance tightened. It was like Mana knew that Pharaoh had taken me to bed with him the previous night. I didn't suppose she knew of how positively cold and sickening it was, but she knew I had been in his bed.

"It is only a thought," I reassured her, "for I know not if I am truly with child. Not yet, of course…"

When my voice echoed back to me, I heard the uneasiness of my voice. I spoke to Mana like I were trying to lure a frightened kitten. I didn't want to hurt her since I knew Atem was an emotional subject for her; being his closest friend and all.

"You mean…as to raise the child? His heir and your son?"

"I hope. Would it burden you, for if so, I shall request for a wet nurse like Teti or…"

"No, no it's quite alright. I would be honored."

But her expression did not befit her words. She spoke with a sort of melancholy, a regret almost. She stood as though closed in on herself; grabbing one arm in front of her and standing with a slight slouch. She loved him. Atem, I mean. She loved Atem. The servant loved the pharaoh and probably had wanted to bear his son herself.

"Are you sure?" I gave her the chance to recant, which oddly enough, I would have preferred. Teti was the wet nurse of Atem's three daughters. She was well in his trust and I'm sure she wouldn't have minded another; especially being Atem's heir- I hoped. But I desired Mana, if anyone but myself, to help me raise a child that I'd not yet confirmed. Mana would be kind and playful. The child would grow loved and nurtured and protected. I could not give a child that.

"Absolutely." she found her smile again. "I adore children. Pharaoh has been good to me as both my king and my friend, the least I could do is help raise his child."

"Yes, well, that is quite reassuring. I've not yet confirmed a pregnancy, but I do pray…for both of us."

"As do I." Mana spoke fearfully as though she knew something I didn't. Seeing the emotion of the situation, I decided to avoid such a confrontation until later times when I'd steal the information from her. Instead, I tried to brighten the moment with a truth that I held to be quite dear to me.

"You've been missed, Mana. Very much missed."

"Thank you." she bowed her head.

* * *

><p><strong>MANA's P.O.V<strong>

"Pharaoh?" I called, searching down every corridor and in every room. "Pharaoh Atem?"

I spotted him sitting lazily atop his throne, toying with the Millennium Puzzle that dangled from his neck. He was sitting very impatiently and tediously as his nobles debated around him. There were servants who held papyrus documents of all sorts and who appeared more battered than I. Amunet would never have allowed me to look so squalid and emaciated. At least I was decently fed with her as my master. I silenced myself in the midst of the doorway, not wanting to intrude in matters that surely I had no business in. But Atem still looked up, almost waking at the sight of me.

"And the rain has only worsened the situation, your highness." a noble complained. "The people of Ta-Akmaat are worried that it is the gods who curse them so."

"I have heard enough." Atem stated firmly. "You may return to your town and inform the people one of my finest architects will visit them in the coming days. He will not come cheap, and if the people wish to receive the best results, they must obey each of his constructional commands. He is an honest man. House him well and let him drink your best wine, then he shall not ask for so much gold from the townspeople. That will be all."

"Yes, thank you greatly, Pharaoh Atem." the noblemen all completely bowed to him on their hands and knees. Then, when the men shuffled past me, Atem read through one last paper and bid Set to leave him alone. It was just me and him then.

"Mana." he ordered me towards him. I bowed my head once before walking the long pathway toward the throne, and then again when I finally met him there. He offered me no smile, but there was a familiar warmth about his face.

"Forgive me, I… I have not disturbed anything, have I?"

"Not at all. We were just finishing up, actually."

Atem sat up straight on his throne as he ought to have been in the presence of his noblemen. He was slumpish around his government concerns, but remembers his propriety when a mere servant stands before him? He was usually so surprising as such. He may have even been trying to impress me. I dared not say it aloud, but it hardly worked.

"There is music somewhere." he spoke with a monotone indifference. "I think it is from deep within the city streets, but I can hear it ever so clearly."

I listened for it. All I could hear were servants shuffling, and perhaps a faint sistrum and a flute, but it was dull in my ears.

"Yes, it seems there is."

How cold. Our once spontaneous and jubilant conversations had been reduced to feeble commentaries. I was saddened by the loss of our connection. We truly had grown apart as we grew up it seemed.

"What business have you here? Did Amunet send you?" he hissed.

"N-No. I've no business at all. Amunet rests, for she is weary and full of aches. I… I just… wanted to see you, that is all. I came to apologize."

"Oh?" his eyes twinkled. "Whatever for?"

"I lied to you. You know, about the incident the other night."

"That is forgiven and forgotten. I could never hold such a thing against you. The offense was not yours."

"Thank you then. You are… not angry with Lady Amunet?"

He sat back in his chair with rolling eyes. He put his hand to his face and almost bit the nail of his thumb. He usually did that when he was under stress.

"I care not to talk about that, Mana. As I said, the incident is forgiven and forgotten."

"I am sorry." I bowed my head, ready to leave at the sight of his frustrations.

"Forgive me, Mana." he stopped me. "I've not felt at all like myself since the rain began."

"Explain?" I badgered tenderly and secretly. Atem had a terrible habit of burying things deep inside his bountiful heart. Allowing him to speak, and whether ill or merrily, was the best potion anyone could offer to him. No one would want a ruler who was hidden in himself. The whole of Egypt would suffer in his shady withdrawal.

And so would I.

"I've never been so lost, Mana." he began with a deep stare into a bleak horizon. "Is it truly my responsibility, my _duty _to sire a son? And Amunet…Queen of Egypt? I've already promised her this deal and she shall surely run off with it. Does Egypt even need a queen? Do _I _need a queen? Wait, disregard those last two sentiments. Of course I certainly could use the extra help, but not so that I solely depend upon them. I have to feed the people, build their cities, hear their wants and pleas, keep our armies strong, defend this great kingdom, and ensure the proper worship of our mighty gods. I mean, what time have I for a child anyways?"

"Do you not want another child then?"

"I…I know not. I suppose I _need _an heir to keep rule when I pass into the next world, but what if I should do wrong in leading him? What if I fail to provide all that a son needs? What then, Mana? Shall all of Egypt suffer because I failed to provide an heir, or shall they suffer because the provided heir has been failed by his father and mentor?"

"These are common worries, Atem." I came softly towards him. "Although, of course, your worries reside on a greater scale than most. But such thoughts plague many fathers before a child. It is only natural to worry. You can only do your best. Treat him as your dear father had treated you. Love him, train him, let him grow into the title of Pharaoh instead of slapping him with it when he is only in the cradle."

He pondered at that, nodding slowly in agreement and amazement that a servant could make such sense of his tangled thoughts.

"If it is any consolation, Atem… Amunet has asked that _I_ nurse the child. I could aid you in your struggle for time and nurturing with him."

"So…she has informed you then?"

"Not directly, but I could figure it out myself. There's something not right about her, but she harbors many of the same concerns as you. She's never mothered a child before. I feel she is even more frightened than you."

"Then it is true?"

"She's not yet confirmed a pregnancy, but is quite sure the seeding actually happened. These things take time, Atem." I almost laughed. He hardly knew a thing about babies and birthing. All through my life, I've helped countless women deliver their children; from peasants and servants to noblewomen. Still, it was rather amusing to watch this powerful man be baffled by such things as pregnancies and babies.

"You'd not had such worries when your daughters were born?" I asked.

"Never to this extent. It stopped immediately when they turned out to be girls. Do not misunderstand, however, I cherish them dearly. I will see them again soon; Khepri, Amunkesut, and little Hatti."

"Aw. How darling. They must be quite beautiful, Atem. May I see them when they arrive?"

"Of course. I'm sure they would love to make your acquaintance."

"As would I." I could no longer control the smile splitting my face. I mean, very few people were aloud to even lay eyes upon a pharaoh's child; especially when they were so young, beautiful, and untouched. I felt blessed, trusted, and cared for to be given such a marvelous opportunity. Only the hemet, a few nurses and servants, and him had ever seen his daughters. I only wished Atem could feel as light as I had then.

I truly did love Atem's daughters even though I'd never actually met them. But, firstly, they were my best friend's children so I felt obligated to love them on the spot. Moreover, I recalled all that Atem had told me of them. I felt as though I'd known them since they'd been brought into this world. Amunkesut was the eldest at five years of age. She was Nefemnah's daughter and rumored to posses an equal beauty to her mother. Khepri was the second, and of Anahknemrure. She was as bouncy and as mischievous as a little monkey. And then came little Hatti. Atem did not hesitate in the least to merrily inform me that she was beginning to speak her first words.

I wanted him to feel just as merry as he did then, hearing his baby girl speak. He was troubled and like when we were small children, I was always there help ease his burden. I would not, could not fail him again.

"Atem, would you care to know what I do when I am troubled?"

He perked up his head in attentiveness.

"What?"

"I dance."

I'm sure I would have been stoned to death if anyone ever saw what I did next. I took Atem's hands in mine and pulled him from his throne to the middle of the room. Just to look upon the pharaoh was almost illegal for one of my status, so to touch him- to _dance_ with him- without his certain permission was unspeakable. I didn't care.

Suddenly the distant music was loud and festive in my ears. I spun and twirled alongside him, grabbing and releasing him over and over again. He did not dance very well at all, but to his credit I said nothing. At first Atem seemed uncomfortable, but after a smile and then a laugh, we were lifted by the music. Neither of us could stop laughing. We were such fools and we knew it; dancing to hardly any noise at all. But _we_ heard it and didn't care if the rest of the world couldn't. He reached for my hips and tossed me high like the sword dancers from the deserts. I shrieked a laugh when he caught me, bringing me again so close to his body.

We lost the room somewhere between our circling each other and trying to find breaths between our laughs. I was no longer a servant and Atem was no longer pharaoh. We hardly ever released another. His hands were always on me and I was beside myself at the surprising comfort it gave me, the rush it filled it me with. It wasn't like the feeling when we were kids. We were grown ups then- well, at least on the outside. This was something a little more significant, something a little more concrete, for I never knew my body could move as it did.

Those feelings forced my body to be near his, to touch him and not think about whether it was right or wrong, who was watching, or what consequences there were. I was free and I wanted him. I'd not ever been able to move my stomach and toss my hips as I had even though I'd dance alone so many, many times before. Somehow, we just knew the steps to the dance. We held each other at the elbows and spun each other around. Then we let go, raising our palms to the gods and turning again and again before reaching for each other once more. We were one eloquent euphoria and there was no stress and no shame.

I wanted him. Hathor, I wanted him to be mine. I've known it so for so very long, but had forgotten my lust in our time apart. But I knew he would never be. When the music ended, he was pharaoh again and I was his wife's servant. Maybe this was a dalliance and maybe it would stay that way, but I hated that it would never be any more than that. He had seven- six- beautiful, talented wives, three charming young daughters and a son possibly on the way. Where would I have ever fit in to that regality, that propriety, that family? Who in the world was I to be in the arms of a king?

He held me in his arms for a few moments longer. He looked down at me and I looked up at him. I wondered if I would ever be so close to him again, if I would ever feel the warmth of his breath upon my neck and drifting down between my breasts.

"You've been missed." he whispered. "Very much missed."

"I've not gone anywhere." I smiled, as if to promise him that my feelings were still the same and would forever remain that way.

"Oh, Pharaoh Atem, forgive me. I did not mean to disturb you." came Isis' voice from the doorway. Atem and I jumped slightly and he propped me back up straight so I could plant my feet firmly on the ground.

"No, you did not…disturb us- me…uh…"

"We were just finished here. Sorry, I tripped. Thank you again, your highness." I gave a quick, flustered bow and dipped away from him.

"Right." he looked away.

"Mana, Lady Amunet wishes to see you. She says it is urgent and bid me to inquire you out."

"Yes, th-thank you, Lady Isis. I will go see her now. Good day." another respectful bow. I dashed out of the throne room, hating how sick I felt, how dirty I felt. I loved Atem. I wanted him to be mine. But I would have to die for that to happen and Amunet, as well as the other hemet, would see very quickly to _that_. In freeing Atem from his troubles and stress, I took them and converted them to weight on my own heart. I hated that when I came to meet the crazed, shadowy eyes of Amunet, that mine were thick with liquids.

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><p><strong>Heseb - <strong>A unit of measurement in Ancient times, a square measure

**Ibu - **A mummification tent or temple that is very sacred and where friends and family can gather to mourn the dead.

**Neter-Khertet - **The place believed to be where spirits awaited their judgments before they could get to the afterlife.

**Ba **- A "personality" part of a soul, seperate from the "Ka".

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><p><strong>Guten Tag, beautifuls. <strong>

**I want to thank you for reading!**

**Now, I know there may be some questions after reading this chapter (and maybe more hate),**

**but I assure you, all will add up in the end.**

**'Cause I got that swag (or words to that effect. Whatever Americans say these days. lol)**

**Oh! Also, I've been getting messages about how I come up with my stories- this one in particular, and to tell the truth... I really don't know.**

**It just happens. **

**But I think what really influences me are movie soundtracks. This story was born in some parts from daydreaming to "Elizabeth 1: The Golden Age" soundtrack. But, even though it's totally Indian and not Egyptian, "Kindle My Heart" from "The Little Princess" soundtrack was what inspired me to write that little dance sequence between Mana and Atem. I dunno, I could just imagine them dancing to it.**

**Hope that answers your questions. **

**Liebe dich!**


	8. Do I Make You Proud?

"May your journey be swift and the gods judge you fair and wise." the priest touched the fine face of the death-mask. "Enjoy the stars, for soon you shall dance among them. Blessed be your memory as you find comfort in the lair of our Lord Osiris. Nefemnah, cherished daughter of Kehetnah and Sani, beloved mother of six children; we offer you these blessings and bestow upon you these gifts to give thanks for the times you've made merry for us, to prepare and nurture you for your life amongst the divine, and to say our final farewells. Glory to you, our daughter of Egypt."

Each of the hemet placed an amulet or ring upon the preserved corpse of Nefemnah. When I placed my token at her side, I grazed her tightly wrapped body on accident. With that one pathetic touch, I was forced to envision her last moments alive; how I abused them and ended them. The last look in her eyes, on the face she used to enchant many suitors, was the look of terror and pleading. I looked upon the faces of her parents who stood weeping in the shadows of the catacomb. I wondered if they knew how she looked, how their daughter squirmed beneath the hands that took her life- _my hands_.

Their soggy eyes met mine and I offered a condoling bow of the head.

All of Nefemnah's belongings were stacked high around the blessed and charm-painted walls. She was given back her wardrobe; all her many fine tunics, sandals, and sashes, her perfumes and jewels, her cloaks and wigs. There were furnishings and delicacies, even swords so that she may continue her exotic dances in the afterlife. Mana brought a blanket to place in her tomb, in case Nefemnah ever got cold in the heavens.

Even in the dim torch light of the tomb, I'd still received many glares from the hemet. My stomach had slightly bulged in the two months passing the death of Nefemnah. I still hadn't quite come to terms with my new position, and neither had the others it seemed. Even though I hadn't told anyone of my pregnancy after Mana had brought me the emmer and barley*, somehow all the women in my life just knew. Just like how they "just knew" of my own mother's status. Women seemed to "just know" a lot of things apparently.

I hadn't even told Atem, but he could figure it all for himself by the growth of my stomach. In fact, I avoided contact with him as much as possible for those two months. I did not speak to him at all and we only shared glares at dinners or passing by in the palace halls. Sometimes the looks were spiteful and others were painfully apologetic. But he eyed Mana all the time and found every miniscule reason to see her alone.

The priest finished blessing the catacombs with protective spells and enchantments. He then took Nefemnah's parents to the surface to offer his condolences and prayers. One at a time, each mourner took a final glance into the sarcophagus, whispered their final prayers and endearments, and then made their way up the long steps towards the sands above. The first time I ever saw Atem show any sort of public affection- or rather, sympathy- for any of his wives was when he embraced Anahknemrure at the side of the sarcophagus. She was saddened the most by the loss of Nefemnah. They may have been closer friends than I suspected.

She cried gently in his arms and whispered her gratitude for his being there. Atem himself appeared indifferent to the matter as a whole. But that was how he usually came off when there were eyes watching him. Deep down, I felt he may have cared, even if only a little, for his wives.

I tried to look away from it. I certainly did not want to be her in his arms, I'd not even wanted to be her at all. I was made sick of Atem. I did not ever want to lay eyes upon him so long as I lived, although I knew that to be impossible. Why did he have to do this to me; impregnate me and through an act so painful and malignant? If I'd only been left alone, if only I'd not been seeded, my father would have surely made do on his threat and I'd have already been so far from the realm of the living. I'd not have been standing there having to look at Atem and feel his seed within me. I tried to train my vision to scan everything but Atem, everything but Anahknemrure. But then no mater where I looked, something dared to drag my thoughts to the shadows of my mind. Sinners would find no peace in the tomb of Nefemnah.

If I looked upon the walls, at all the spells that would ensure her a swift journey to the land of stars, I would think of how the afterlife- if Ammut did not decide to swallow my soul- was to be very grim for the likes of me. If I looked upon the sarcophagus, I would think only of how Nefemnah would not be resting there in salts and sheets if I'd not tossed her over that edge. If I looked at the tunnel leading out towards the stairs, I'd see only the man who had robbed me of my own life coming towards me.

Mana reached for my hand and gripped it to comfort and relax me, to hold me down to earth. When I inhaled, the breath caught around something in my throat and I felt that I'd have to reach my hand down and tug it out just to breathe again. I could feel my eyes grow wide and intense like those of a desert owl's; never missing a movement even in the darkness that he brought with him into the tomb. The incense in the tomb clawed at my nostrils and little crackles of tingles blotched up and down my arms.

"Lord Harantatef?" Anahknemrure lifted her head from Atem's chest.

"Anahknemrure." he greeted. "I meant to come earlier to join in the services."

"As long as you are here, my lord. It brings me great comfort in seeing you again."

Mana and I shared a quizzical look. Not only did he know Nefemnah, but he knew Anahknemrure as well? Even Mana looked a tad frightened at that.

"Oh, your highness." my fathered bowed. "Forgive me, I had not noticed you in the dim light. I do apologize, my pharaoh."

Atem only nodded. Anahknemrure leapt from his arms to my father's and guided him towards the sarcophagus. I watched against my will. My mind was screaming to take my eyes away; look at the floor or something or I shall become so hateful I will do something I shall regret later! It was a little late to be thinking such rational thoughts, and again I fell into a fit of loathing. I watched as my father placed and arm around her waist and let her nestle her head onto his shoulder. They mourned Nefemnah together- lovingly almost!

How could my father have been so loving towards Anahknemrure? Moreover, how in the world could he have known her? That right there, maliciously being displayed before my eyes, was the tenderness that not I, my sister, nor my mother had ever known. How could he have given that to _her_; pharaoh's foul, ignorant, conceited _whore? _Someone so uneducated and who was not even his own blood? I was his blood! I was his flesh, his eyes, his toy! Who in the world was she to be held in Harantatef 's arms while I suffered at the touch of his hands?

Mana gripped my arm harder.

"Breathe." she whispered urgently. "My lady, you must calm yourself."

"I can not." the words were barely audible even to myself. My lip trembled with hate and sickness. The tomb spun around me, my vision degraded and torn. "A fire burns inside me, Mana."

Father looked at me over Anahknemrure's head. His eyes snaked towards me and sought me out in the shadows.

"Amunet, my daughter." he called for me almost on queue. I'd not felt Mana so heated in so long. Her arms trembled in sync with my own, and for once, I could feel the hate flowing through her. My father intimidated her and awoke the bitterness in all hearts. Maybe it was only due to all the stories and secrets I'd told her about him, but she genuinely appeared to have wished that he'd been laying there in that sarcophagus in place of Nefemnah.

I could not agree with her more.

"I see you mourn there for Nefemnah as well, my child. I've seldom seen you so morose. Come here, my daughter, let me embrace you."

Mana's brow furrowed. I looked at her with such longing. Although I knew there'd been nothing she could do without violent repercussions, I wanted her to daringly hold me back. Don't let me walk over there. Instead, I dropped my gaze to the floor and felt my feet pound with each step I took towards him.

His arms then surrounded me like a prison fortress that I simply could not climb over. He smelt of soot and the swarm of cheap perfumes and incenses that encumbered the prostitution districts. When my ear was pushed against his bare chest, I was surprised by what I heard; the beating, the thumping of a calm and fluttering heart.

"Oh, I know, dear Amunet. I remember all the messages you sent where you spoke very eloquently about Nefemnah; how you admired her so, if even from afar. You must miss her greatly." he pet my head with a slight drag and tug of his fingers.

I was at a complete loss- bereft of logic! I stood like a statue in his arms, having been stunned by this unpredictable- and awkward- occurrence. I did not understand, for I had sent him no such messages. Not even once had I so much as considered contacting him once I married Atem. What was going on? Was he lying for me in the motion of a bigger plot? He knew I hated Nefemnah. He knew I hated _him_!

Mana began coughing. She wheezed and wheezed, almost choking. She found herself gasping for air and her eyes beginning to water.

"Amunet!" my father snapped. "Silence that slave of yours!"

"She is not a slave," Atem cut us off. My father sucked in a hefty breath and held it there for a moment. He did not like it when people went against him. Pharaoh was no exception.

"Come, Mana," Atem helped her towards the stairs, "perhaps you just need some air."

"Y-Yes, thank you, your highness. You are most gracious."

She looked over at me, holding herself tightly, and gave me a reassuring wink and smile. Thanks to her coughing fit, father had released me and reverted back to his true colors. I could see how he despised her in the way his lips curled.

"Well then," he shot at me, "I will you leave you then, ladies. I only came to offer my condolences and to pay my respects. I will take my leave."

Anahknemrure bowed her head while I stood frozen in my hate. He gave me a look and then shuffled off into the stairway to follow after Atem and Mana. I was left alone with only a corpse and the whore that had stolen the affections that had rightfully belonged to me all my childhood. My father adored her; possibly even bedded her. I hated her for that.

"Your father is a wonderful man, Amunet." she spoke, staring over the mummy of her best friend. "You should be proud."

"Yes. Very." my glare was sharp, cold.

"We'd once been lovers."

"What?"

"Yes. It was long before I married dear Atem. I was but fourteen when he courted me generously. We'd almost married too, but when my father discovered Harantatef had his children of a prostitute, he refused. I was then discovered by Atem who is a few years younger than I, and I never looked back until now. He is so charismatic. Wouldn't you agree?"

"No."

"No? Why ever not?"

"Are you his whore?"

"Amunet?"

"_Are you his whore_?"

"No! How rude of you Amunet! And to think all this time that I'd-"

I took a handful of her hair and slammed her face into the rim of the sarcophagus. Her nose crunched with such a despicable, bloodcurdling crackle that I almost let go. She cried and whimpered, blood pouring down her neck and onto her chest.

"A-Amunet…please…stop!" her words were corroded by the blood draining into her mouth.

"And what of Nefemnah? How did she know him?"

"Amunet…"

"How did she know him? Answer me!" I threw her into the wall with all my might. The back of her head smacked across the painting of Osiris' godly face.

"I…I introduced her. He seemed…very interested in her. Please, Amunet, why are you doing this to me?"

"Did he bed her?"

"No! Let me go, Amunet!"

"Have you spoken to him recently?"

"I don't remember."

With a frustrated growl, I punch her dead in the neck. She choked back a scream and tears poured violently down her cheeks, mixing with her blood.

"Yes! Yes, I spoke to him! I told him of Nefemnah's death and he asked about you. He asked if there were any suspicions about you killing her and I told him there were none. Please, Amunet, I'll do anything. Just let me go! Please don't kill me!"

"What more did he say?"

"Amunet!" she panicked. "He…he said….Atem loves that slave girl more than he could ever love a mistake-child like you…"

She screamed but I don't remember what for. The next thing I knew, we were over by Nefemnah again. Her face was bloodied and indented to the point where I could no longer recognize her. Blood marred the edge of the sarcophagus and flooded onto Nefemnah's mummy.

I sighed, releasing all my aggressions into the darkness. With a calm, morbid composure, I knew what had to be done. Alone in the tomb, I lifted Anahknemrure into the sarcophagus, laying her face down on top of her best friend's corpse. I heard her moan slightly. She was still alive.

"Amun…_helff_.._muh_…" her words were so hidden by blood and pain, I barely understood them at all. I knew that once the casket was closed, no one with any sort of respect for the dead would reopen it. Guards would check up on it, protect it, and admire it, but no one would ever open it. It was a sin to open the casket of the dead- especially one so royal. No one would ever find the body of Anahknemrure.

The lid was incredibly heavy, although made of less gold than the pharaoh's would one day be. It was usually a two or three man job, but I could not risk anyone finding the mark of my purpose, the residue of my life's goal. It took quite some time to lift it up and slide it over the two bodies. Anahknemrure moaned quietly and tried so desperately to form words worth hearing. I saw all the fear in the world, all the sadness and hate glowing in her eyes as the last light faded when I sheltered her and Nefemnah in the sarcophagus.

I took a deep breath when it was all over. There was only a few glimpses of blood on my hands and my neck, and nothing that I could see on my tunic. It was a clean kill. Thinking that almost made me feel like a hunter, like this death was a prize and victory. The only fabric around which no one would notice much were Nefemnah's skirts. So I went for the basket that I knew was full of them, pulled one out from the very bottom, and rubbed away all the blood I could find on me.

Footsteps came down the steps. I jumped into motion, tossing all the tunics back into the basket and leaping straight to my feet. Harantatef's eyes shined like a hunting lion's in the night. He looked around and found only I standing beside the closed sarcophagus. There was something approving on his face.

He _wanted _me to kill Anahknemrure.

He probably suspected that I'd killed Nefemnah as well.

And I gave him what he wanted.

It was only then that I felt so wrong and so filthy.

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><p><strong>Emmer and Barley<strong> - Ancient Egyptian women urinated on these two herbs to test their pregnancy. If the emmer showed more discoloration than the barley, then it was believed the woman was pregnant with a girl. If it was the barley, then it was a son. Of course, there was always room for error.

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><p><strong>Hey, beautifuls.<strong>

**Sorry this chapter was so short.**

**But I have terrible news.**

**This chapter was so short because the rest of my story got deleted in a tragic laptop accident, and as true for the other half of this chapter.**

**Yes, I know. I have to write and TRANSLATE- the hell, that is so much work- the story ALL OVER AGAIN.**

**FML to the max right here.**

**But I won't let you wonderful people down! I promise! **

**I will write in the best damn English I am capable of and then ship this story off to my sis to be Englishified.**

**Well, Happy Holidays beautifuls! **


	9. Mana: A Contagion

"I wouldn't plan on it." Atem mused. He smiled at that, looking my way with his hand enveloping mine own. His hands were soothing and relaxed; they were not dry like mine, like the palms of a servant, they were tender to the touch and perfectly laced.

"But it isn't impossible, my dear Atem. I mean, what if something should happen to all the monsters you've all captured with the Millennium Items? What if they are freed from their stone prisons? What then?"

"Well, we do our best to ensure that never does happen. If we should fail, then I'd not rest until they are all found and captured once more. I will do whatever it takes to protect our people, Mana."

"I only wish I could be of some assistance. I mean, it seems like an awfully daunting task."

"But you do so much already."

"As do you, my pharaoh."

He gave me a conspicuous look then as we stopped our walk over the desert sands. His hand never loosened, though, never failed to bring me comfort.

"You would brave those monsters even without a Millennium Item?"

"I don't mean to mock you, Atem, but I've braved many things already without any use of your golds and your heka*."

"Have you now? Well, these monsters are unlike any you've ever seen. You'd need to master the art of heka, become a magician."

"Like Mahad? Well, perhaps then he could teach me one day if you'd allow."

"Perhaps one day he could and you will become my personal magician, my most trusted seer and priestess. Then we'd be very well prepared for that day when we should need to capture the beasts again, won't we?"

"Are you teasing me?" I laughed.

"Oh, I'd be much too frightened to tease a magician."

We laughed, but a feeling that had been emanating from the depths of my gut prevented me from carrying on with that laugh. My smile faded rather quickly and to Atem's surprise as well. This dread and this regret, it came to me as some maniacal realization in a sense. And I let it sweep over my face like a mask or paints. Atem did not fail to see it there either.

He swung in front of me with such concern all about his expression.

"What is the matter? Have I offended you?"

"No." I shook my head. "No you have not."

"Then why do you look so bleak? Where has the smile that I have come to cherish run off to? Something troubles you, Mana."

I could not meet his eyes I'd been contemplating so enduringly.

"Do…do you think Amunet is one of those monsters?"

"What?"

"The demons and evil that you, Set, Mahad, Akhenaden, even Isis see in the hearts of people and try to extract for the greater good! Do you think it is possible that Amunet has a demon like that, a monster that finds comfort and housing deep inside her heart?"

"Mana…has she done something to you?"

"No. Please, I just need to know, Atem."

He thought about it for a moment. I watched him think, watched him debate in his head, while the clouds took many colors and hues behind him in the horizon. The sand was still warm between our toes, the wind was gentle as it tousled our hair, and the day was dimming before us. But no matter the splendor all around me, no matter the warmth I felt walking at the side of Pharaoh as we waited for Amunet to surface from the tombs, I felt an inconsumable dread. It was the illness Amunet had once told me of.

A year before, I'd been brushing out her long, silky black hair before we would leave to visit her sister Meskhenet. She'd just had her first child, a son, and we were to offer our blessings upon the baby. Amunet stared into the mirror like she'd been lost and afraid. I was caught off guard by the morose, unexplainable and delicate stage of her being.

"Amunet, my lady, are you feeling alright?" I asked.

"No."

"Would you like me to fix you some remedy? What pains you, my lady?"

"It is nothing that can be healed with some herbs and wine, Mana." she spoke with a monotone vehemence. "I am ill. Always have been. It is dread, a dread that is forever hungry, forever thirsty. I _am_ happy for my sister, and very much so, but this dread I feel can never go away. It persists through the most delightful of occasions, through laughs, and through kisses, through festivities, through marriages and birthing. It is a scar engraved upon the heart. It is envy. It is lust. It is fear and dishonor. It is knowing that you shall never be quenched of your thirst, although it is drunk on your shame. I fear it is sin itself; nesting, and breeding, and harvesting on the soul so that joy may never eat, pride may never drink, and hope- if it all there was any- chokes on its own freedom."

There was nothing I could reply with. She was still and cold beneath my finger tips and I feared she'd not been all there. Amunet was never, in all the days that I'd known her, ever joyful without pretending, ever proud without lying, ever ambitious without denying herself the right to dream. I knew then that Amunet was broken. I'd had my suspicions all the while, but never anything more until that day. I had hoped that the gods were right to have placed me with her, whether beneath her whip or in the grace of her attempts to be happy. Maybe they wanted me to save her. But she was so far down, so deeply lost in the darkness, that when I'd reached down to help her, it was too great of a distance that I'd slipped in. More and more, I felt I was being drowned in her emptiness, suffocated by the sands of her secrets. Buried. Lost. Broken.

Standing before Atem, caught in the colors of sunset, I began to wonder if dread was contagious. Maybe I had received it from Amunet, who had received it from Harantatef. Maybe I'd end up giving it to Atem, although he'd already shown signs of the illness long before our return.

"Isis would have been able to see if there were such a monster living in her. I can have her check again if you wish."

"That is not necessary."

"But it is. If you fear she shall hurt you again, or if she means harm-"

"She comes now." I motioned for him to silence and he obeyed. Amunet reached the summit of the stairs that were the entryway to the tombs. She squinted in the sun, having arrived from the darkness below. I slipped my fingers out from between Atem's and there was a coldness in that. He tried to feel my fingers against his for as long as possible, but I denied him that pleasure. Amunet searched for someone, anyone, in the desert. There were none but Atem and I. All the others had left in their grief, wanting to leave Nefemnah in peace for her journey to the afterlife.

"Lady Amunet." I called to her. Her eyes dove for me. There was something off about her, something a little more than usual. She'd not marched over the sands angrily or commandingly like I thought she would, but instead kept her head down and walked like she'd been wounded.

"Lady Amunet?"

"I would like very much to leave now, Mana." she spoke softly.

"What of Lord Harantatef and Lady Anahknemrure? She hoped we would return to town with her later this evening, that is why she offered to bring us here without charge."

Her eyes shot up in a stabbing manner. Her expression growled at me, that I could feel.

"They mourn still." she spat. "I care not to wait for them, nor to waste my time with her company whether sober _or_ drunk. Let us leave."

"Yes. Right away." I bowed.

"Why not join me? I can escort you both back to the palace." Atem cut in. "Mahad and our two horses await just beyond that dune."

Amunet wasted no time, which was very odd for her indeed. It was probably because of Harantatef. I could see her discomfort just knowing he was about. I pressed on her with my eyes, gently nodding.

"Alright then. Thank you, Pharaoh."

"It is my pleasure. This way."

We trudged over the sands, the air cooling down for the night, and in no time we were greeted by Mahad and the whinnies of horses. I've always adored such creatures. Once, on my old farm, I used to have a beautiful white horse who I took out for a ride almost everyday. Atem knew the story well, as I've told him countless times with no signs of stopping, but one day I grew extremely reckless. I took the horse out, my pretty Aahmas*, and stood on her back as she ran. I was so free, scared out of my wits- which most would say I didn't even have considering the extremity- but I was alive. Of course, eventually I fell off and broke my wrist. Atem was the one who first tended to me, but I wouldn't stop moving because I was still so excited about the whole thing; the air rushing through my hair, the adrenaline, the scream of glee I just had to let out or I would have burst.

Since then, Atem hadn't trusted me so much on a horse of any kind.

But this wasn't like riding freely. There was tension and there was hate, and all because Atem chose me to ride with him instead of his pregnant wife. Amunet rode behind Mahad, looking as though she hoped she'd fall off. I tried to whisper an apology with soundless lips and pleading eyes, and she saw them I believed, but didn't seem to care much for them. Perhaps she'd been able to sense that I truly wasn't sorry. For once, I was getting all that I wanted- and that was Atem's attention. It killed Amunet, although she'd already long since been dead. Her empty shell grew thinner and thinner every time her eyes happened upon me. It wasn't that she wanted exactly what I had, Atem held closely in my arms and the warmth of his body against mine, but my happiness, my freedom, that_ I _was given affection.

It was strange, our differences, I mean. The people respected Amunet's status, but neglected _her_. The people neglected my status, but respected _me_. And she hated that. She hated the world for that. Sometimes, I fear, she hated me for that.

It was dark when we arrived back at the palace. Amunet slid from the horse without waiting for Mahad to assist her down. It was one thing to wait because she was a young woman, but another because she was a _pregnant _young woman. My heart almost skipped a beat when I realized how careless she'd been in her pregnancy. I had hope that the further along she went, she'd take more care.

Atem took my hand and helped me off the horse, but I could not take my eyes from Amunet. I worried oh-so very much about her. I hated her as equally as I did love her.

"Not like the last time you rode a horse, is it, Mana?" Atem tried to smile.

"Oh, ha, you're very clever, Pharaoh."

"I smell something cooking." chuckled Mahad. "I shall take these horses to the stable and hopefully dinner should be ready when I return."

"Hopefully." I smiled back. "I am starving!"

"Well, in that case, you shall have to join me for dinner then." came Atem.

"Oh? You mean actually sitting down at a table with you and all your fine nobles and advisors?"

"You _could_ sit on the floor if that is what you wish, but yes, you are very much invited. Although, I don't recommended eating on the floor."

"Are you being absolutely serious? I can eat the same food as you, our Pharaoh, and your nobles, at your table with all your finery and delicacies?"

"Ra Almighty, yes, Mana. I see no reason why not. If I permit it then no one can refuse."

"No reason? Atem, I think your crown may be a little too much of a strain on your head." I laughed. "Because I can think of five, maybe six, _very_ good reasons why not."

"Enlighten me then."

"Well, first, there is Amunet. She seems very displeased with me, I'll have you know. Not that I can figure the cause as of yet, but I can promise that should she find me seated at your table, I don't think her health would grant her any leniency. Second, there is Anahknemrure. To her, servants and fine meals are like cattle and crocodiles; they simply don't go together. Then there are such reasons as Adrasteia, Marhamaat, Sitamun, and although Ranno is dear to me, she will not sacrifice regality for a servant's friendship. Need I say more?"

"Forgive me, Mana, but could explain to me the part where I should find any of these 'reasons' an obstacle forbidding me to allow you a seat at my table?"

I smiled wide.

"I suppose when you are pharaoh, you are able to forget such things like derision and all its scars. Atem, I would love to be seated at your side, drinking the best wines while making merry with all your fine company, but I'm afraid I must decline. I do admire the notion, however. Very much so. Alas, it is not as simple as one may think. Women are cruel, Atem, especially those whose powers are threatened. And although I may be blessed with your protection and pardons, cruelties are not limited to the physical kind. Women are the artisans of the other sorts of debilitating acts. I know I am not one of any important social standing, but sometimes it is the Ba of the soul that is what upholds a good name. And that good name is all I have to offer to the world other than petty servitude. I wish to keep what remains of it in tact, if you don't mind."

"I see." he spoke absently. "You are very wise, Mana. Now I remember why I listened to you all those times I'd been in trouble with my father."

I laughed.

"There were just so many of those occasions I'm surprised I have any advice left to give _anyone_."

"Let us not forget, Mana, although it was I who got the blame, it was you who got into all the trouble."

"But I always got you out. So, not to gloat or anything, but I think I won in terms of points for deeds between us. I've not forgotten the score, you see."

"Is that so? We'll see about that, Mana."

"Take heed, Pharaoh. I will not be so easily intimidated."

Atem took my hand in his with a pleasant grin. He lifted my knuckles to his tender lips and pressed our skins together. I'd gotten over my surprise when our bodies touched and gotten used to closeness of our beings. I welcomed his lips upon my skin.

"Tomorrow then, you will join me alone for another stroll in the gardens?"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything."

We parted ways when one of the hallways divided into the men's and the women's quarters. I took my leave with a bow, and made my way towards Lady Amunet's chamber. All the while, I could not divert the tingling sparks and tickles running ramped under my skin. Most of it was concentrated where Atem's lips had kissed, but a glee reverberated almost violently all around my insides. My smile felt like stone upon my face- unable to change, unable to conceal my girlish joy. I almost felt a skip and a hop coming on when the tingles reached my feet. I was light as air.

"Oh, Lady Amunet, Lady Amunet!" I sung, twirling into the room. "What a night it was! Have you ever seen the moon so radiant before?"

I had to be careful not to reveal anything about my secret affairs. Although, I didn't even know if I could call them that. Atem and I, well, we never really _did _anything. We were friends, maybe slightly more, only talking and reminiscing through the gardens and what have you. I couldn't have been called his mistress nor his whore. We hadn't, we couldn't, we _wouldn't_-…would we?

"What glorious weather to be strolling in! Oh, I find the stars so diverting."

I hadn't realized how silent the room was until I took a breath to regain my composure. Amunet hadn't replied at all to anything I said or sung. I hadn't heard her so much as stir.

"Your Grace?" I poked my head about the corner that parted the beds from the lounge-like dwellings of her room. I froze. I found her silhouette standing at the edge of the small veranda. The moonlight shone in on her face, which I could see was unmoving in the mirror she had placed before her. She stood just staring at her reflection with no torches lit in the room. Her back towards me was a dark and haunting, shadowy figure of the demon that lived within. But her face, her saddened, melancholy face, was bright with terror and lit up like fire.

A hand, as gentle as they come, was placed over the round of her belly.

"Amunet, my lady? Is everything alright?"

No answer.

"C-Can I get you anything? Wine? Fruits? A blanket perhaps? It is getting rather chilly, is it not?"

Silent.

I came close enough to her that shades of my being could be seen from the darkness in her mirror. Her hands crept up to touch the mirror. She reached for herself, touching her reflection's hands.

"Strange," she whispered, "even in my reflection, my hands are still so cold… like a corpse."

I was frightened. Amunet was gone. I could feel it in the air, in the chill that the wind delivered to our room. I never thought I'd wish so hopefully for it, but I wanted her back. I wanted Amunet to come back to me. This was not her. This was not my lady, my master, this was not my friend and the woman I sometimes thought of as "sister". This was not Amunet who stood before me. It was not her in the mirror nor her standing split by dark and light.

"Amunet…would you like me to fetch the medicine man?" I trembled greatly.

"This is nothing that can be healed with some herbs and wine, Mana."

She was ill. Ill with dread. I knew the story well.

"A-Are you ill, my lady?"

"No." such a simple word, and yet it sounded so terrifying in her voice. She pushed hard against the mirror and let herself slip out of her hands. The mirror was sent careening downwards towards the ground. Amunet stared at her reflection as she fell further and further downward before shattering loudly into so many shining pieces. Shards of her were scattered all along the flower bed they'd crashed into. She'd been broken by flowers.

"Amunet!" I choked on her name. "What is wrong? Please, Amunet, I don't understand. Let me help you."

"I'm tired." she turned and walked straight past me. I was still so in shock that I could not close my mouth nor shrink my eyes. She slid into her bed, almost fully dressed and adorned in her gold and jewels, and I rushed to her. Tears suddenly came to my eyes but I did not set them free.

"Amunet, please," I took her hand and pressed it against my cheek. They truly were cold. "I fear for you _and_ the baby. You are not yourself. Please, talk to me. Tell me of your sorrows and I shall steal the burden from you. Will you not converse with me as we used to? Tell me of your stories that I adore so greatly?"

She hardly looked at me. Her head rolled to the side and she stared past me like I wasn't even there. My heart was beating so quickly. It wasn't accustomed to changing so rapidly from one situation to another. I heard it pounding against my lungs. I took Amunet's shoulder and shook her aggressively.

"Please! Tell me what has happened! Tell me why you are so unstable upon this night! Why do you dare sleep in my lady's bed if you are not Amunet? Who then carries the heir of Pharaoh Atem?"

Amunet was a body in my hands, and hardly anything more but a vacant, cold fortress that withheld nothing but regret and secrets. She hardly blinked, hardly moved, and yet still she breathed. Something had snapped. Amunet was gone.

"Do you not love me anymore? Is that why you do not speak?" my voice croaked and ached from fighting against a cry. For a moment, all I could hear was my breath wavering like a battered whore's.

"How have I wronged you? I apologize for any offense I may have made against you, but I promise I did not mean to injure you."

I searched her face for something- _anything_- to give me a clue as to what she may have felt or thought. I saw nothing there. Her eyes were dry and dull, her face bore no traces of a heart. If I had not felt her breath upon my arm, I'd have thought her dead. My body slunk to the floor. I kneeled at her bedside, no longer able to look at her face.

"Amunet…you must think me a fool, but I must confess, …sometimes I think you are the only one who truly understands me. Atem is very dear to me, and we've been talking a lot more lately, but he thinks of me mostly as I was as a child. We've been parted for so long, h-he doesn't quite yet see all that I've become. Oh Hathor Almighty, I love him, Amunet. I know I shouldn't, I'll be damned, I _know_ I shouldn't. But I do. And if that should be your reason for shunning me, then I understand. I bring you shame. But sweets gods, Amunet, I love you. You are my sister! Do you not hear me cry?

I know you care for me too. In your distorted, twisted way, I know you love me too. And perhaps it is only because you see in me what you want to become. If you did not love me, I would not be here at your bedside, crying for you and your unborn child. You can not leave me alone. I need you more than you may think. Oh Ra, Amunet, speak to me!" I cried, throwing myself over her to hug her. I kissed her cheeks so many, many times. My tears fell onto her in a way that made it look as though she were crying too. I then buried my face in the blankets and her pregnant belly and let loose all my sobs.

A solid, weak arm made its way across my back. I looked up into Amunet's fragile, but smiling, face.

"Such a pretty, pretty girl."

"Amunet?"

"Whatever did I do to deserve you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Heka<strong> - Ancient Egyptian term for "magick".

**Aahmas -** A name literally translated into meaning "child of the moon". Of course Mana would give her horse that name!

* * *

><p><strong>Guten Tag. Well, as you may know, I had to translate this all over again. If you find any mistakes, no matter how miniscule, please do not hesitate to tell me.<strong>

**Also, I've been reading a lot of your messages and trying to answer your questions. Um, what the hell? You guys ask a lot of weird stuff! Some of it has absolutley nothing to do with the story or even _Yu-Gi-Oh! ._**

**So, how about this; I was thinking that if you have any questions whatsoever- Odin, I hope I don't regret this- you message me or leave them in your reviews and I'll have them all answered at the end of the story, probably give them all a small section after the epilogue.**

**Well, guess that's all. Thank you for all your Yule & holiday wishes. **

**Tschüß, Schöne Menschen!**


	10. A Savior and A Subterfuge

Oddly, upon awakening abruptly from that night, I came across the speculation that perhaps this time it was _real_. Of all the nights that I had awoken from, and so suddenly too, perhaps it was this time that would at last deliver me into reality. The last fourteen years of my life would be nothing more than a cruel and cold nightmare. I awoke that night, following Mana's doleful speech, and dreamt that I'd wake to be my four year-old self again. I was without hate then, without sovereignty. Maybe I thought I'd return to my land; not that grand edifice that Pharaoh built to provide for me the only entertainment in all our marriage, but the land far from the palace where I was birthed.

I was again in the collision course of spices and ales, even the sordid scent of the livestock. There was something crisp about the air, perhaps the sand, but I liked to imagine it was something a little more gratifying. My village was in the far reaches of the Nile. There, the many statues glorifying our deities and the artistic works of architects hardly existed. Most of the people there made a living off of the silt and the womb of the earth. Many travelers would pass through our village, making it somewhat more diverse than most agricultural villages, but also allowed for women like my mother to earn her grain and sometimes gold.

I had a lot of brothers and sisters because of that. Alas, the only other unfortunate soul who shared both my mother _and_ Harantatef was Meskhenet, and we rarely saw any of our other siblings. Their fathers wanted to keep them, and when asked who the mother was, they'd usually reply that the mother was dead or that it was of their young wife. My mother wished to keep at least one of us for herself, and when Harantatef came back from business in the capital as a returning customer, she knew she had to keep Meskhenet and I together. That was my first and only pride in life; knowing that of all her children, she chose to keep _us_ as her sole comfort.

For some reason, that pride was all I could feel. All night long, I was haunted by that long gone sense of worth and acceptance. There was a sultry pleasure that reverberated all throughout my body, a lust almost. A laugh crawled its way into my throat and then a smile came slithering to my lips. I knew there were tears all down my face, but I could not remember why. I don't even know when I started to cry. I thought of Meskhenet, I thought of mother, and I thought of Mana too- oh, my pretty, pretty girl. My hands were buried in a tenderness I could not place. There was something so docile and so pure, I simply _had _to steal it.

Where had I been all those years? Did I even exist until then? And, if so, was I aware of it? All those times I spent writhing in Harantatef's shadow, I could have very easily been living _or_ dead, perhaps even drifting the line between them. There were often screams and squeals, as I partially remember, and sometimes I'd feel something like a squandered hope or the need to cry the words I knew no one would ever hear. But mostly I was numb to it all. I scarcely remember those times in the beginning when I feared, or pleaded, or ran from Harantatef. I can remember the darkness, and quite possibly that feeling of a weighted noose tightening around the heart and lungs. I can remember hearing the silence and the sin breathing around me, above me, inside me. And that was my whole world; all of the Gods and the Demons in one small, black, space. This world inside me, this somber dungeon I call home, is the only home I've ever known.

You learn not to fear, and to stare into the emptiness rather than to live in a single moment or remember a bleak myriad of them. To cry or to mourn, it would almost be as if learning to dance or to build. In that sense, it requires much practice, patience, someone to look upon your progress and the details of your profession, and most of all, the will and the care to endure all that should follow. I bore no such will. Life, at least in its human form, was a largely overrated phenomenon.

And that night, in that abstruse euphoria, that tenderness that I had felt beneath my hands, that laugh that I had croaked, and that pleasure that built in my bones, I had taken the life of one of the hemet, burying her under her own, silken pillow.

* * *

><p><strong>MANA'S P.O.V<strong>

"Mana."

I willed my eyes to open, but they simply refused.

"What watermelons? I didn't eat those…" I moaned, still half-dreaming about those watermelons. I do that a lot, actually.

"Mana!" the voice called sharper that time.

"Alright, you caught me. I found the kitchen in the watermelons. I couldn't…resist…so…juicy…"

Finally I managed to pry my eyes apart. Tears could do that, you know, act like an adhesive upon your lids to keep them shut from the terror reality could cause. It was not Amunet who called my name. She was asleep beside me, her kohl smudged as though she too had been crying that night. I didn't recall her ever crying, not even when I was buried in the sheets and pleading for her to reply to me. Amunet _couldn't_ cry; not that I had ever seen, or at least not since the night I met her.

It was very peculiar waking up that morning. It took a few moments to gather myself, but even when awake, the puzzlement did not cease. All of our belongings, both the few that I had of my own and Amunet's bounty were all tucked away in trunks. They were the same trunks that only two months ago we had lugged to the palace. Amunet's entire wardrobe, all her perfumes, her jewels and accessories, even her papyrus works and games were packed away. Everything was boxed or tied up and ready to be loaded onto camels and donkeys. Only what furnishings Atem had readily supplied remained.

I did not recall hearing so much as a sound in the night. Amunet couldn't have done all this, especially not so quietly or quickly. She would have woke me, bid me to pack everything _for_ her. I tried to remember all that I could, but all I stumbled upon were charred bits of a scrambled dream. Mostly watermelons and swimming in the Nile. I looked out at the trunks glinting in the sun and then back at Amunet. I searched her for answers, from the dried kohl all down her cheeks, to the way the bulge of her pregnancy undulated with her breath.

Only one thing came to mind. And I dare admit, ashamed that I am, I did not think much of it then. I thought it only a dream, another piece to the subconscious night at her side. In my somnolence, I peeked only once through my eyes during the night. I believe the sky was just beginning to blue when I spotted Amunet upon the divan. She had her dagger, that very same dagger that once had been lodged into my own flesh, and was enraptured by the way the tip of it dug into the cushion. She twirled it around almost like exercising a fetish, but left no readable countenance.

"Mana!"

The voice was loud enough that time that it made me leap within my skin and, of course, end up on the hard floor. I sucked in a painful grumble when my elbows plowed into the gypsum. Waking Amunet was the last thing I wanted. No one but me had any idea how difficult it was for that woman to even fall asleep! But the voice didn't seem to care. It called my name one more time, and that's when I realized that there was more than one of them. There were two rather high-pitched voices that were followed by girlish chortles.

Before they could call again and wake Amunet, I ran for the window where they seemed to have emanated. I was about to tell them all to hush, perhaps have even asked who in the world would call for me at that hour if not my lady, but Horus had risen far too high above the palace walls for it to have been morning. Giggles burst out beneath me and I looked down into the gardens of Pharaoh's palace. Three little girls smiled upwardly at me, one being only a small baby in the arms of her sister. Atem came around the corner as though he'd been seeking them out, maybe even chasing them through the flowers and fruit trees.

"There you are." he said. "Oh, and it seems you've found Mana as well."

Atem greeted me with his eyes; the same plum, vase-painted eyes that he shared with all three of his beautiful girls. The biggest smile ran across my face. At first, all I could do was suck in a warm breath of air, and then I almost wanted to shriek the happiness that had peeked all the way up into my throat. It took some effort, but I turned to look back at Amunet who was still sleeping soundly. I lifted my hands and motioned for him to hold on like I were waiting for a signal.

"I'll be down in just a moment!" I spoke a little louder than I anticipated. Then I began racing all around. Amunet, if it was truly her, hadn't left a thing out for me to use but a few grooming tools. Amunet would've killed me if I used her brush, but that's all there was. I lifted it from the table and gave my hair a few good hacks. My thick hair hardly obeyed anyone, especially not me. We were always at war. I patted my tunic clean, and with a barrage of fretful "ohs" and "ums", I finally came to terms with the fact that there was hardly any more freshening up I could do.

I shoved my toes into my shoes- which I thought was odd. I hate shoes. I suppose that just further proved the headiness of this honor. I mean, being allowed by the pharaoh himself to meet the three royal daughters? And as a servant? My parents and I must have been extra friendly with someone upstairs.

On my way out of the room, I paused just as my foot crossed over the threshold. Maybe it was just to double-check that Amunet's eyes were closed, but my eyes were instead drawn to the large trunk in the center of the room. An awful feeling boiled in the pit of my gut. Just awful.

_Dread was contagious_. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

I wasn't about to let the fear of Amunet ruin probably one of the greatest moments of my life. Without giving so much as another thought, I continued over the threshold and began my descent through the palace maze. On the way, I asked every one I met if I looked presentable.

"Of course, Mana." or "You look splendid." were their usual, quick replies as I raced past them. It wasn't long before I was leaping over blue lotuses, swerving around small pools, running past decorated trellises, and winding between sweet-clovers and papyrus stalks. Although I'd strolled through these gardens many times in the past two months, and even more so when I was a child, I always felt lost in all the colors without Atem to guide me. There were so many different scents entwining in the air, yet none of them fought for dominance. They seemed to have come to a mutual agreement, that when you past by some flowers you'd taste their scent and not the others. Even when you stood in the midst of many, you'd bask in a peaceful mixture of all their colors and all their fragrances.

I heard voices then, making their way from just a small ways down a path. I stepped past a few scullery workers picking grapes for wine and came across Atem and his three daughters sitting in a small grove of pomegranate trees.

"Heqet taught me how to make these." Amunkesut handed Atem a finished wreath of flowers. I knew it was Amunkesut because of how beautiful she was, how much she resembled her mother, Nefemnah. The poor girl. It must have been so hard for her to lose her mother, but at least she had a loving father like Atem.

"Why, thank you, Amunkesut. Heqet is a very wise woman and she has taught you well."

Little Hatti gave a small squeal and Atem immediately turned his attention to her.

"Khepri, don't do that to your sister." he reached for the baby, "She's not ready for that sort of play."

"I know. I was just teaching her! She can do it, I promise!"

"When she's older, yes."

Hatti's little eyes reached for mine and she gave some kind of gleeful or warning gurgle to her father. Atem and his daughters all turned to me, probably half-expecting me to be just another grape picker.

"Mana." Atem welcomed me into the grove with a nod. I watched as Amunkesut and Khepri shared a glance, one carrying a slightly knowing grin, as I stepped past the first few trees. They both looked back up at their father and tried to silence their giggles.

"Mana, these are my daughters. This little lady is my eldest, Amunkesut."

She curtseyed with such elegance, I could have easily mistook her for Nefemnah.

"And this conniving, mischievous little brute is Khepri, always up to no good."

"Hey!" she laughed.

"And she is baby Hatti?" I questioned, although it sounded more like a statement.

Atem nodded pleasantly.

"Girls," he gathered them before me, "this is Mana, the royal sorceress."

My mouth fell open at almost the same time as theirs.

"Can you do magick?" they asked, pulling on my tunic.

"Can we see some? Please, Mana? Will you show us?"

"W-Well…I…"

Atem moved as if he were about to come to my defense. I was helpless against their pleas, even he could see that, and I think his girls could too. Not that they minded much. They were so much like their mothers, it seemed, already enjoying the power of their positions at so young an age. I hadn't any choice. I couldn't disappoint them, even if I hadn't known the first thing about heka at the time.

"There is one thing I can show you." I knelt down to their level.

Atem looked almost surprised. He knew his stories were just that; stories, and that I couldn't show them any true magick even if my life depended upon it. Still, he did not interfere.

"I'll need you to close your eyes, though."

Khepri, the less skeptical one, did not hesitate the slightest. She squeezed her eyes shut and awaited. Amunkesut looked at her sister and thought about it for a moment longer.

"Go on. Close your eyes." I urged and she soon followed.

"Now," I stood slowly, "I am going to show you a trick I learned many years ago. This is very difficult, I must warn you."

"What is it?" Khepri bounced.

"I am going to show you…how I disappear!" my heels dug into the ground I bolted off running. I heard the girls behind me shout and they soon came after me. They chased me around the grove, squealing and laughing as they did so. Khepri swore she was going to get me with her tired breaths. They parted like a pair of hunting lionesses and Amunkesut came around to cut me off. Of course, I slowed down to allow them the chance to grab me. With all their might, which was an unexpected amount for their tenuous frames, they tackled me down to the ground and pounced for the kill.

The girls laughed as they leapt on me.

"Tie her up!" Khepri ordered. "Hurry, or she'll escape!"

With her imaginary rope, Amunkesut ran around me thrice and tied me down.

"Oh, no!" I cried. "Pharaoh, help me! I've been kidnapped!"

"Come, Hatti, we must save the princess from these thieves." Atem placed his baby girl's feet on the ground. Slowly, she placed one foot before the other and Atem guided her towards me.

"Hatti, help!"

With a toothless smile, Hatti made each step a little blessing, like a small walk towards salvation. She reached me just in time, before the thieves could harm me anymore. I grabbed little Hatti in my arms and held her.

"Oh, you did it!" I squeezed. "You saved me!"

Yes, an innocent moment like that one saved me. I did not think of Amunet, I did not ponder upon her miseries or her crassness. I did not care what was in that trunk, nor wondered why everything was packed away. I didn't even dwell on the dried, streaked kohl of Amunet's sleeping face. In one delightful moment, possibly a foolish one, I had forgotten just where I stood in life. And I did not mind that in the least. Servitude was beyond me at that point. All I cared for were these three, wonderful, blessed girls and Atem. I never wanted to let that moment go. With Hatti so warm in my arms, and the girls dancing all about me, that merriness was all I wanted, all I cared to remember. That could have been my family and I would be no one's servant but the gods.

* * *

><p><strong>Not really much of an update here, sorry.<strong>

**But I must say, the translations of the rewritten "Of All The King's Wives," is complete.**

**And I am sorry to say that there are only a few more chapters to go.**

**On another note, Leisol (my sis) and I were recently visiting a few friends in Russia ****where we saw a production of "Doch Faraona"; meaning "The Pharaoh's Daughter".**

**It's a beautiful ballet you all should go see. We love ballet.**

**But we were inspired to write a new fanfic somewhat having to do with****this one. **

**NO IT WILL NOT BE A SEQUEL! Just saying.**

**But, it'll be posted soon. Just so you know, in case you're interested.**


	11. Mana: Illness In My Bliss

"But then Heqet said father wouldn't like that, so then I asked father, and he said that Heqet was right because I'm too young. But I promise you, I'm going to marry him when I'm older. Right, father?"

Amunkesut held my hand with one of hers, and used her other to hold Atem's. Khepri tagged along at Atem's other hand, sometimes having to take a leap just to keep up with his calm strides. I held baby Hatti tightly to my breast while she gurgled and yipped at her surroundings. I loved watching her eyes grow wide when she'd smell incenses or food from the pantries, or how she'd turn her head to read the stories on the palace walls.

"I don't remember ever coming to such an agreement." Atem smiled, a little uncomfortable having such a conversation with his five year-old.

"But I will! He's my best friend! You agree, don't you, Mana? I mean, it's perfect. You already know your husband, you can both be happy, and you don't have to suffer the aberration of meeting them. Have you ever thought about marrying your best friend, Lady Mana?"

_Yes_. _More and more often it seems._

"Well, it really is up to your father. You're only five, Amunkesut. You have all your life to decide who you'll marry."

She tightened her grip on my hand. The girl clearly wanted me to be on her side of the argument. Amunkesut knew what she wanted, and at five years of age, she'd have been a better suited queen than a handful of the hemet.

"Not really." she whined. "Father always has the final say."

"He _is_ the pharaoh, you fool." Khepri teased.

"Oh, quiet. You're not even pretty enough to be married."

"Silence." Atem, who I couldn't ever imagine being cruel to his girls, was sharp in tone. He could do that- cut vehemently with a single word. Maybe it was that he was pharaoh, but Atem really struck people stiff sometimes. He could do it with his eyes, with his presence, and even with a simple gesture.

"You will not say anything like that again, Amunkesut; especially not to your sisters. And Khepri, you know better than to instigate. Understand?"

"Yes, father." both girls chanted in cadence.

I could see so much of their mothers in them. Already, Amunkesut was thinking of marriage. I wouldn't think Atem to be so easy on whomever he chose to wed any of his daughters, but I don't suppose he was ready to discuss any of it with them. If Amunet couldn't birth him an heir, one of his daughter's husbands could easily be selected as Pharaoh's successor. I knew that, and I certainly wished to avoid that. Atem already had enough to deal with. Unfortunately, at the time, neither he nor I had any idea just _how much_.

"If it is any consolation," I aimed my voice towards Amunkesut, "I think it is a very lovely idea; to marry your best friend."

She smiled at that. And so did Atem.

I could feel us moving closer to each other and with Amunkesut's permission. From the very base of my vision, I watched her smile as she looked up at Atem and then me. She was intuitive and there was no fooling her. She knew there was something going on- whatever it was- between her father and I. If I hadn't been so nervous, or so anxious, or so in love, or whatever feeling that had swept me away from my logic, I'd have sworn she was actually pulling us both in. I wanted to kiss him. He was right there and so ready too. I must have been out of my mind. No, instead, I was _in_ my senses. The senses that had me flushed, the one's that tingled under his warm breath, the one's that had me spinning at the touch of his lips.

His girls gasped excitedly. Nothing felt more true or more right. One day I would have to thank Amunkesut- convince Atem to let _her_ marry her best friend perhaps.

Our kiss wouldn't last long. We parted as soon as we'd realized what had happened. We didn't regret it, at least I didn't, but it was more that we'd been caught by surprise. In truth, it wasn't the first time we'd kissed. I used to place my lips upon his all the time when we were younger. I often surprised him by hiding in a pot and kissed him when I jumped out. It was my way of greeting him. He was coy to it then with a boyish little grumble and sniffle. But sometimes he'd kiss me on the cheek too. He'd never admit it, though.

This kiss reminded me of those. We were children, nervous and either without or out of practice. After all, it wouldn't have felt right to _really _kiss in front of his daughters, regardless of how entertained they'd be by it. We didn't even know if we _should_ have kissed at all. It felt right, but also so very, very wrong. Maybe it wasn't the proper timing or place, or perhaps it was because we hadn't declared our undying affections, or any of those things I'd heard in the gossip of women.

Atem stared pensively at my lips debating whether or not to try again. I certainly was up for another go, but not then, not there. Something was missing. I just didn't know what.

There was shuffling from the down the hall. It was Ranno, a little unruly in appearance and somewhat beat by the sun. Once she had spotted us, she grew a jump in her steps and waved.

"Pharaoh Atem!"

She loved Atem; all the hemet and the help knew that. She _really_ loved Atem. No, Ranno was my friend. She never treated me as a servant, but as an equal. I couldn't think ill of her just because the game had changed slightly. I willed those feelings down into my gut- that horrid envy and disdain. I did not want to be Amunet. I did not want to be struck ill with dread. But I did want Ranno to stay away from him. I didn't care if she was his wife. I was his best friend.

Wait….yeah. I said it!

"Lady Ranno." he greeted.

"Oh, forgive me. I see you are busy with your girls. Hello, my princesses."

The girls curtseyed.

"Atem, they've grown so beautifully. You should be so proud."

"That I am, Lady Ranno. Thank you."

"I do apologize, my pharaoh. I was only wondering if you have seen Sitamun as of late."

"I'm afraid not. She was with me early yesterday before Nefemnah was interred, but I have not seen her since. Why? Is there something the matter?"

"No, I just have not visited her in some time. She is so young, you know, and with so few to talk to. She is like a lamb, that girl. I hope she is well."

"Shall I call for aid in your search?"

"No, thank you. I'm sure she is just wandering the grounds again. Sorry to have disturbed your gathering. My lord," she bowed in retreat, "Mana, royal daughters."

"Lady Sitamun is missing?" I whispered although Ranno was far down the hall.

"No. I'm sure Ranno just missed her. I know my cousin; she does not wander astray. I assure you, it is not a case of Tefnut and Shu*. Why are you so frightened by this news?"

"Hm?" I looked down at myself. At some point I had drifted away from Atem. I was holding one of arms to my chest, looking somewhat distraught.

"I'm not frightened. Trust me, stranger things have happened." I smiled, but I only wished he knew just how true my last statement was.

"Father, hurry." Khepri pulled on his cloak. "I want to see mother. And so does Hatti!"

"Alright, alright. Will you join us, Mana?"

As much as I loved Atem and being around him, I could not bear to be in a room with him _and_ Anahknemrure. They would be the true family I've always wanted. The blood father, blood mother, and the adoring daughters. Although Amunkesut was Nefemnah's, Anahknemrure was practically a second mother or an aunt to her. The two hemet had been so awfully close to each other. I would have had no purpose but to wait on them. I'd be an intruder on what could have been a very joyous moment, and I certainly wouldn't want to impose.

"No. No, I should be heading back. Amunet is probably wondering where I am."

"And she will be angry?" he shifted defensively.

"Perhaps. I can handle it, though, for she has been feeling rather weak lately. Besides, she knows not to overstep her bounds. Thanks to you, of course."

"I trust you to know best then."

"Thank you." I bowed. "Have fun, girls."

"Bye, Lady Mana!" Khepri bounced. Amunkesut gave me a light hug before slipping her baby half-sister from my arms. I waved brightly and turned, but Atem would not let me go so easily.

"Mana," his vehemence had returned, "meet me tonight. In the grove."

I nodded and he let me go. Once I turned the corner that confirmed our separation, I could not deny the instinct to feel my lips. They'd been tingling, but I could still hear them calling for Atem's lips. They missed his. They wanted to get to know them better. That was a child's kiss, and they wanted more. They wanted to explore and exercise, to be encompassed by his lips and perhaps even lift them apart for a wider, more sultry view.

Fondling over these contemplations, I nearly careened into Adrasteia. Papyrus scrolls, limestone flakes, and reed pens were all bestrewn across the floor. Lucky for both myself and for her that she was able to hold on to the ink. Of course I didn't expect her to apologize, so I got to it and began collecting all her works.

"I'm so sorry." I said for about the thirteenth time.

"It's fine." she huffed with such frustration that her acceptance was not to be believed. I annoyed her. Everyone annoyed her. Maybe I'm going on a limb, but Adrasteia was probably less agreeable than _Amunet_. At least Amunet tried to be gregarious, even though it failed beyond such compare that she eventually gave up on it.

Without so much as looking at me, Adrasteia was ready to abandon the hallway and return to doing whatever Romanesque things Roman people did. Truthfully, though, going back to Amunet was one of the last things I wanted to do. I had to find an excuse to prolong my return.

"Adrasteia?"

"What?" she hissed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I have a lot of work to do." she continued shuffling away.

"No, wait- please." I probably sounded so desperate. And desperate pretty much equated to foolishness in her mind. "It's very important."

She turned to me, resting most of her wait in one leg with her hip jutting out impatiently.

"Come then. I will not stop for a peasant girl, but if you must."

I ran along side her and we swerved into a room I'd seldom seen. Mostly scribes worked in there, penning records or sending out Pharaoh's orders when soldiers were not necessary. There were shelves upon shelves of papyrus. Some were lined completely with ink markings, all of which I could not read. There were small tables for grinding bright minerals into powder and then vases of Nile water to turn them into ink. There were crates of reeds and stalks to convert into pens and for some reason that room smelt different than any other place in the palace I'd been to.

"Wow…" I blurted out.

"Well?" Adrasteia placed her writings on a vacant table. Her works were different than most of the ones I'd seen. But then she had some papers with hieratic*, others with hieroglyphics, and then another with the symbols I'd never seen. She'd used the limestone flakes to scribble some words down, but I couldn't read them. I was never taught to read or write in any form. My intrigue for the room died down and I again felt miserly.

"Sorry…I've just never been in here before."

"What question have you?" she pestered in that strange accent of hers.

I fiddled. I hadn't thought of anything to say or to ask. So, I coughed up the only thoughts and worries that came to my mind.

"How do you feel about Amunet?"

Adrasteia cocked an eyebrow. I'd done it. I said something she either saw coming but hoping it wasn't or something she thought wouldn't be as dull. Her leafy green eyes didn't seem all that menacing, but they were ruthless, untamable. Adrasteia was the first foreigner I had ever seen. If I told her that she'd have probably laughed at me. But I always found myself captured by her unique beauty and wondered if all Roman women were that way. She was much more pallid when she first came to Egypt, like the alabaster walls or the foamy waves that bubbled in the Nile when a boat would pass. But her skin had deepened to a more honey color over time, certainly not like mine, but a sweet cream. Her hair was a thick brunette and always banded or bunned in a way I assumed only Romans could do.

I remember hearing from Amunet about the stories she'd tell the hemet; about gladiators and this grand coliseum, about the emperors and the might of Rome. It made me only want to see the world more. See _her _world.

I could see both politically and physically why Atem kept her close. Admittedly, I was jealous of her in almost every way. Adrasteia was educated and refined. She kept her traditions, always wearing something I had never seen before or teaching the other hemet about the "Roman way" of doing things. She was somebody. You would only have to look at her to know she was of great importance, even if she weren't married to Pharaoh. Sometimes Atem felt threatened by her; I don't know who wouldn't, actually. She may not have spoken as fluidly as I or the other hemet, but she knew what she was doing, and she could have been a great queen for Egypt, Rome, or anywhere her life took her. Atem agreed, as he'd told me many times. I'm sure he had bedded her many times, if not as many as Nefemnah or Anahknemrure.

"Amunet is wise. Silent, but wise. She means as much to me as any of the other… _h-hemate _do." -I knew what she meant.- "They're good for a few drinks and maybe a laugh then and there, but I find no real value to their presences or their beings. Is that all? I have a lot of work to do."

I looked down again. I wished I could have understood what she was working on. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt so foolish about even wanting to be around her.

"Forgive me, Lady Adrasteia. I have not been at all honest with you." I spoke. That may have intrigued her because she lost the annoyance on her face and reclined more comfortably against the chair.

"What I really wanted to ask you about was…" I took a quick look about the room, "what is it like to be married to Pharaoh Atem? I mean, to share a husband?"

An astute twinkle emerged onto the grassy fields of her eyes.

"Sharing a husband isn't at all complicated, especially when the marriage itself means something to different to each of us."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

She scoffed as though she resented me for having basically asked her to explain in her limited vocabulary.

"For me, marriage is a business. As long as I am married to Pharaoh Atem, Rome and your little dust cloud here can trade in peace. My union with Pharaoh spans no deeper than that- the sex is only a bonus. Now, say, for Ranno, she sees it as some infantile, blundering romance even though he's not touched her in months. She's still a…a _virgin_? Anyways, Nefemnah was in it for the adoration; at banquets, at hearings, even just standing beside Pharaoh, it meant that licentious men and envious women would stare up at her and hunger for her or her life. She fed off of that." she rolled her eyes disgustedly.

"For Marhamaat, it saves her and her family from poverty, and it saves Anahknemrure from becoming the common whore- not that she'd ever figure. Sitamun, well, I suppose she was just a last resort in the hopes of saving the purity of Atem's dynasty or something of the sort. I don't quite know about that girl, only that she is far too young to be seated on anyone's throne, moreover impregnated."

"And what of Amunet?"

Why did everyone leave her out when they spoke to me? Was it like that for all conversation? It was as if just the mention of her name were too morbid for an everyday talk, that it could only be spoken in whispers and hushed tones in secretive, nightly meetings. Amunet's name meant 'hidden', and I was starting to find that more and more appropriate for her. But I wondered if the meaning had been misconstrued for a doleful illness or something disdainful and that was why no one liked to talk about her. Because, Gods Almighty, there were so many, many things that could have been said about her behind closed doors.

Adrasteia smirked incredulously. I almost was sure she was mocking my ignorance. I wasn't blind to Amunet's actions, I wished I could tell Adrasteia that, I simply chose not to open my eyes. But telling her would ensue in questions I certainly didn't want to answer.

"For Amunet- the gold, the jewels, the pampering and the palaces- it's just a luxurious way to die. Blessed Artemis, I swear, after that wretch births that child of hers, I may just ask Pharaoh for your transfer to me. Most would say she won't last a year more of this place. Me? I think they're wrong. I think she won't last another few months, maybe not even labor. I hear the mortality rates of women in child labor are high here in Egypt*. But, if I am granted your servitude, I think you'd rather fancy Rome, little Mana."

Of all the many times I've thought of traveling, of seeing the world, I never thought I'd ever deny the chance to actually go see it. And what was worse, was that I denied it _mentally_. Amunet wasn't the most tolerable of people, that I knew well, but she had no mind to say such things about her. How could she even think that Amunet would die in labor? She sounded rather hopeful for that, and with no consideration for Atem's son- _my best friend's unborn son_! Adrasteia knew nothing about Amunet! She cared for nothing but her Rome where all her pallid little friends were and her fancy coliseum and gladiators!

Atem would never trade me, anyways. Even if it were only to another one of his wives, he'd never give me up. Adrasteia would've surely taken me back to Rome if she could and I'd never see Atem again. He wouldn't ever let that happen! _I_ wouldn't ever let that happen!

"It's alright if you like him, though." she said.

I was demure. "Oh" was the only reply I could muster.

"Honestly, be my guest. We've all seen the way he looks at you. Even Amunet is not blind to the matter. She cringes, but endures because we can all agree it is for the better."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. Again, it was to mock me.

"All of the hemet see this marriage to Pharaoh differently, and yet still there is one thing we can all draw from it; _freedom_. As the wives of a pharaoh, we have the freedom to be educated without sacrifice- I mean, here I would not sit trying to learn your written language. We have the freedom to speak when most women are ignored, we have the freedom to travel as we please, the freedom to meet and converse with anyone who happens to look our way, the freedom to choose how we live. The only condition is that we remain married to Pharaoh, and even that requires little effort. Most choose to remain faithful, Nefemnah and partially myself I must exclude from this, because it is the only public display of marital duty we can offer.

But that freedom would be limited if Pharaoh were to _love_ any of us. We'd be mostly bound to his side, having to ask permission to travel, sometimes needing a reason to do so, or we'd only go where he wishes, we'd bear more children- a long and painful process from the looks of it. Besides, none of us really have anything in common with him. And faithfulness would then require a lot of effort. We hemet want to be Queen, not his love. Love binds, royalty rules. Freedom is embedded in the throne; that's why we want it. My heart already belongs to a man who at the end of the season I shall see again in Rome.

Pharaoh is wise and a good man, that we all see. But he needs to love more than his kingdom, and he needs to be loved by more than his people. He needs loyalty that is given, not demanded or forced. And you are the only one we've ever seen him love. Our moments with Atem are intimate, and so we see a pharaoh that Egypt does not. But when he sees you, we do not see a pharaoh at all. We see a man, a breathing, bodily man beneath that crown whose heart beats and craves for you alone. And so, following a chain of events, we need you to love him and for him to love you. You give us freedom. And we give you privacy."

"You mean…you know I love him?"

"We're women. Of course we know."

I gave the hemet freedom by being loved? All that time and they knew? None of them were angry? So, in the end, I took it to meant that I still was a servant. A servant of love, used to preoccupy a lonely pharaoh into giving his wives a taste of freedom- that same freedom that I would never have because I was a servant. I could never be a wife. Still, I could not think completely negatively of that. Because, although we wouldn't be married, I had Atem's love. To me, that meant more than a wife's freedom. That was a freedom of its own kind, perhaps one of a greater potency too. And if all the wives already knew that Atem and I were seeing each other, then we could be together and there should be no say about it. The public wouldn't even have to know, right?

"Why are you being so nice to me by telling me all this?" Although I knew she was acting anything but nice.

She smirked.

"Because I don't have the vocabulary to be mean."

"But if you did, what would you say?"

"Think of the most insulting thing you can say in your language and pretend I said it. Now leave. I have hieratic to study."

I smiled, bowed, and left. But I couldn't imagine Adrasteia insulting anyone so directly. I'm sure she had it in her to do so, but I just couldn't picture it for some reason. Maybe I truly believed that the whole 'tough', 'no-tolerance' persona was only an act, but I saw in the peak of her smirks that, quite possibly, she was actually rooting for me. Our little talk was the piece of relief she would give me as an aggressive 'thank you'. And I would accept that.

"Mana."

Spikes poked between the rungs of my spine hearing that tone. It was Amunet who called. I didn't have to turn to know, but I did anyways.

"Your Grace." I bowed.

"Where have you been?"

Amunet had a talent for making the brightest of areas appear morose and as lonesome as being a wanderer in the deep, endless desert. You're pretty much vulture food at that point. Strange, though, that even though I couldn't read, I knew the story on the wall behind her. There was isfet* and shai*, and even the primeval ocean. A story of chaos, destruction, destiny, and beginnings.

Atem used to tell me that story; the one with Nun and The One Who Made Himself Into Millions*. He would tell me almost all the stories I know about gods and goddesses.

"I'm so very sorry, Lady Amunet. I wanted to tell you, but you were sleeping and I did not wish to wake you. Pharaoh had requested my services."

"I bet he did. And you were happy to oblige, I'm sure."

"Lady Amunet, it wasn't like that."

She sighed and then pursed her lips into a smile. I found no comfort in it. Amunet came to wrap her arm around me. She guided me into her room where there were still things packed away. But I noticed she'd taken a few things back out. It looked relatively normal, like maybe I'd only cleaned the room instead of things being packed away. I took that be something relevant.

"You are never to see him again, Mana."

"What?" my heart beat so hard against my ribs that the word was only its gasping echo.

She placed a filled sack into my hands and without any remorse, any heart, she said like a bouncing, anxious child, "We're leaving."

"Lady Amunet…I beg you to reconsider. Where? Why? And when? I can't go now. No, nor can you. Your health- the baby-" I tried so hard to catch my breath between words, but the pieces of my heart were leaving holes for my air to escape when they pierced my lungs.

"The baby will be alright." she practically sung like everything were merry, like I wasn't about to faint or throw myself out the window.

"Tonight. We leave for Ankhtifi."

"But…But that's in the Red Lands*! That's days- _weeks_- away from the palace!" I ran to her and touched her arm. Still, all she did was smile and nod, completely oblivious to the pain in my countenance that bemoaned her to spare me from this fate.

"Lady Amunet, please, love me as I have come to love you. Let us stay here where it is safe. And if you truly feel so attached to your decision, I must ask that you leave me behind. I can not go with you to Ankhtifi."

"Leave you behind?" she chuckled. "Why, I could never do such a thing. Of course you will come with me. It will be so diverting there."

"I don't want to be diverted, Amunet! Don't you see? I am in love! You can not take me from Atem! He will not allow you- he loves me back!"

"Oh, don't be so vain-"

"He kissed me, Amunet! He loves me…and I kissed him back."

Silence. The silence was what always killed me. I was determined to stand my ground. My fists were clenched tight, my legs were ready to run. But then I looked at her belly. I just didn't have it in me to hit a pregnant woman. That was Atem's baby living, growing, resting inside her. That was my lover's baby and the next pharaoh of Egypt. I could not take the risk of hurting him. That would have meant hurting Atem, hurting all of Egypt. I didn't want the baby to hate me when he was birthed, only remembering my voice as the one that hurt his mother. Atem would never forgive me for endangering his son.

"You are coming with me, Mana."

"I will not." I said.

"Mana…"

"No! I love him, Amunet. You can not make me leave with you! Pharaoh Atem will not let you!"

"Atem will never know that we left or to where."

"Not if I can help it." I swore with gritted teeth. My feet moved before I knew I'd made them. I was almost to the door, taking a huge breath that was sure to carry my voice far across the palace.

"Don't you dare take another step!" she snarled and I froze. I knew it was nothing good. Amunet had whipped out that old dagger, still with crusted blood from my own thigh, and held it above the bulge of her belly. My face contorted into an expression of utter fear and heartache. She had Atem's son, and if not, then another one of his beautiful daughters. The faces of his daughters flashed inside my mind; I could feel the warmth of Amunkesut's hug, hear Khepri's chortles, watch Hatti take her first steps again.

"No." I choked on a sob. "No, no, no."

There was no doubt in my mind that she would stab herself. Unlike Adrasteia's insult, I could actually envision the blade piercing through her sore flesh and then I could almost hear a baby's cry- no, a baby's scream. A dying squeal, a life drowning in the fluids.

I fell to my knees. I had lost. She had Atem's child, she had the winning card. She won the game.

"Good girl." she said.

She handed me the sack again and we tossed everything out of the window and into the garden. The trunk was the last thing to go. She cradled it, wouldn't even let me near it, and checked the latches to make sure they wouldn't come undone before heaving it into a bush. Amunet had already thought everything through. We cloaked ourselves as scullery servants, hooded and all, and made our way into the gardens to retrieve our belongings. All the while I was hoping Atem was already waiting there in the dark, praying that he or some servant who'd been working late into the night had heard at least something fall onto these flowers.

But no one came.

I did not cry until we mounted the horse. It was after everything was loaded onto a donkey. It was tied to the horse that was kept waiting a little ways away from the palace, out of the view of the guards and the Pharaoh's mindful windows. I recognized that horse. It was black with lacerations, probably from a whip, on its left side. Harantatef sent that horse.

Any wrong move, like crying too loud or screaming Atem's name could have been the death of the baby. And maybe even the death of me. All I could do was look back at the palace, its lights growing dimmer the farther into the desert we rode, the mighty walls and pylons shrinking into the distance. I wondered if Atem was waiting for me in the pomegranate grove. He would be hurt, abandoned. I'd have broken his heart. Maybe he'd search for me. What we he do when he'd realize I wasn't there?

Amunet, who had once prayed for the very superlatives of detriment, had finally found the means by which she would give wings to her plague. Dread was contagious. Once, when dread was young and emaciated, it found refuge in Amunet. She'd been infected long, long ago, as dread would always lead a silent incursion. Although languished and injured, similar to the host herself, death and dread had permeated in her hollow veins. It warmed and cradled itself in the nest it had made within the catacombs of her hate. Once settled, dread would feed; slowly at first, but then more gluttonously. Dread would rape all her empathy, plunder her solace. And when it was done, leaving only a decadent carcass, dread would hunt for another heart. _My heart_; a feast freshly awaiting with chalices of empathy and steaming rows of affection, morality, and hope.

I was ill. Ill with dread.

And that was how Amunet had casually broken my heart.

* * *

><p><strong>Tefnut and Shu - <strong>"The Lost Children", from the ancient Egyptian myth where Atum-Ra lost his children in the primeval waters and sent his solar eye to find them.

**Hieratic** - An almost cursive form of hieroglyphics used as a more everday writing.

**Mortality rates of women in labor in Ancient Egypt **- Actually, believe it or not, they were very high. Infant deaths were also very common. Many children would die in their first few years of life.

**Isfet** - The concept of chaos, as opposed to Maat (justice)

**Shai** - The personification of destiny. Everyone had their own shai, like in Hinduism it would be like a dharma.

**Nun** - Also known as Nu, the primeval waters from which everything came.

**The One Who Made Himself Into Millions** - "The Creator" who, without diminishing, divided himself into all the elements of life that we know.

**The Red Lands **- Lands far from the Nile, deep into the desert; as opposed to the Black Lands where the Nile was fertile and most civilizations remained.


	12. A Steep Craze

Dinner was served to us in bed. Not that it mattered really, because Mana and I hardly ate anything anymore. There was no point to food. It took all my effort to swallow the poultry placed before me. I did so only for the baby. Mana, however, let her dinner sit out for the fifth night in a row. She'd peck at the bread, sometimes take a bite, but would only ever finish the wine. We had stayed with my sister and her husband. Meskhenet had the largest home in all the village, as it had been past down from Harantatef. Of course, it was no where as imposing a the royal palace, and certainly not as lavished or decorated as mine. It was, as most in Ankhtifi knew it, a farmer's attempt at aristocracy. An attempt that had blatantly failed. Mana mostly sat by the window in our unusually small room. Waiting. Attenuating. Staring. That had become her routine since arriving in the village of Ankhtifi.

In the four months we'd been there, everyday was the same. I could promise that there were even the same clouds in their same aerial prisons at every sunrise and sunset, but liars are not to be believed. Mana woke just before the dawn, took her bread, and sat by the window. Just sit. Sometimes I'd talk to her about the weather or the odor of the livestock, but she'd only nod, only mumble. Sometimes she'd spruce up the room just _because_. Other times, late in the night, I would see a secretion of indifference cascading from her eyes. She was the skinniest I had ever seen her. Her skin, once a honey refuge, was then sallow and coarse. The skin all around her eyes was pink and swollen. Everyday that she sat moribund at my bedside window, I saw her strangled by what could have been. I saw her instilled in a love I so quietly had quelled. I saw a spinster in the making.

Although, I noticed how Sasenet would look at her sometimes. He often helped my brother-in-law in the fields or repairing the house. Sasenet wasn't known for his looks or his wisdom. In fact, he'd have been entirely useless if it weren't for his muscular frame and height. But, again, that was how most young males were expected to be in an agricultural village. I saw how he would nod or smile when he'd pass her by or look up at her sitting in the window. He tried conversing with Mana only a few times, but managed to fumble on each attempt. He may not have had the vocabulary of a scribe, but he had a heart rich with affection for Mana's beauty.

She, however, pretended never to notice.

"You should eat more." Meskhenet urged, swinging into the room with yet another basket on her hip. "There are two stomachs inside you now, remember?"

"Yes. I find it very hard to forget."

"Growth pains. I am sorry to say, dear sister, but they will only grow more frequent. He'll keep kicking harder too if you don't feed him."

"I know. I shall try."

Meskhenet smiled in a bit of a victory; getting me to eat, I mean. She looked drowsy and overworked, but somehow had found room for grace and accomplishment. My baby sister had grown so much older than me. She was agreeable in face, looking more like my mother than I, and was a very accomplished wife having had two sons for her husband- Susupti. She was diligent, patient, and her laugh always reminded me of a breeze between papyrus stalks. My sister was accustomed to life away from the towering monuments and busy markets, making a comfortable life for a family in the poverty of Ankhtifi. She was inked with a tattoo of Bes on her thigh to ward off venereal diseases, as her occupation before marrying Susupti could have ensued.

When Harantatef decided to take me to the capital with him, he left her behind. He said she was like a sheep that would not sell to even a beggar. I remembered.

"No milk, no meat, no cloth." he stated with a sturdy fist. "She will birth runts if one is so brave as to bed her at all."

And that's how we were separated- like livestock sold at clamorous auctions and market squares. Like the cattle that groaned just a little ways down the street, or the fowls that cooed and clucked. I was glad Harantatef abandoned her. She could have been me if he hadn't. She could have been the cattle that was slaughtered, or the quail that was boiled alive. Instead, she was left to fend for herself. While I was given gold, education, and a marriage that would present me with many fine horses and palaces, Meskhenet was only given a small, decrepit attempt at a palace, some aged servants, and the shame and degradation of having one of her breasts cut off. It was father's way of saying "don't mention that I am your father, not even in prayer". I would have hugged her, tried to have stopped the bleeding even, but I was taken from her that night.

She folded and stacked another basketful of linens before coming around to my bedside. I watched her do this, amazed by the childish ease she used to approach me. I hadn't told her why I had come back to our village. I hadn't told her that I was a sinner, faking my own death to escape an even worse one. She didn't know just whose baby I carried. I hadn't even told her that I'd married the pharaoh. I couldn't. It wasn't fair to her.

"Eat." she said. "And you too, gentle Mana. I've not seen you eat more than a slice of bread since the day you arrived. Does my cooking not please you?"

"It is lovely. Thank you. But I am sorry to say that I can not eat it."

And that was the most I had heard her say in weeks.

"Hm? Peace, child. Why ever not? Are you ill?"

"If dread is contagious, then yes. If not, then I suppose I have conjured a new illness of my own."

"Oh, poor girl. You will be in my prayers tonight and every night that should follow." Meskhenet then turned to me. "Amunet, has she always been like this?"

"No. Not always."

_That's it. Hate me, Mana. Please, hate me. React! Burn this guilt into me, consummate it!_

Meskhenet sighed. She took our cups and our meals away, seeing as we would not eat any more of it.

"I hate to waste what little I have. I suppose this shall become my and my family's dinner tonight."

"We apologize, Meskhenet." I said.

"No need." she kissed my forehead.

"Mama! Mama!" tiny feet came thumping all down the hall. "Mama, Papa is home!"

"Oh, he is? Well, we shall go and greet him then. Come, children." she lead them out. "You ladies rest well tonight."

Mana and I nodded without any viable thought to it. Maybe it gave my sister some comfort to think that we'd actually slept soundly too. She was an excellent, hospitable hostess who, although had so little to begin with, opened her home and service to us.

"Her-ka-pet* is in the belly of Nut." came Mana abruptly. As usual, telling me what astral assortment or deity roamed the sky was her way of saying 'I'm going to retire now'. Everything was code to her in our days in Ankhtifi. She would talk about the heat of the day when she meant to answer 'no', or she would mention something about the people who passed by for 'yes'. "Good morning", if on those rare occasions she cared to greet me, was always something about the wine, and "good night" was saying something about what she observed from perusing the sky. That night, she told me about the planet Her-ka-pet.

In one sickly illusion of a move, Mana left her window perch and swept herself beneath the covers of her floor mat. And that was all it took. That was how she closed herself off. She didn't mind the worn and stiff pillows or the scratching fabric of the blankets. Instead, she allowed herself to feel a sense of familiarity in them. It was the only comfort she found out there. It gave her a sense of belonging to be huddled in that poverty, like it reminded her of a time before her parents had sold her into servitude. That was one thing we had in common; that irremediable nostalgia of crawling back into our beginnings.

I sat alone for just a few moments longer, waiting for the remains of the Sun to sink into Akhet*. I could never be too sure if Mana was truly asleep, but I liked to pretend she wasn't. I liked to pretend we were talking as we did before ever returning to the palace in the first place. One night, as we lived in the palace Pharaoh had built for me back in the city of Maadi, there was a great storm that frightened Mana. She somehow found me within the landscape of sheets and pillows and settled there beside me. Thunders would slip through the blankets, even when we pulled them over our heads, and lightning filtered through the cloth. To calm her fears, she asked me to tell her a story; my favorite story. So I did.

I told her about Anat, the mighty warrior goddess who defended the pharaohs and Amun-Ra, and Wadjisfet, once a mortal man who drank from a cup of chaos. Anat was a loyal lover and sister of Baal, who was God of Storms like the one that was raging all around us. She would do anything to protect the great pharaohs and her brother. So I told Mana never to fear the storms. I told her that Anat would never let anything happen to Pharaoh, and so Baal probably sent the storm to save Atem from enemies or to make the crops grow so he will not die of hunger. She liked that part.

As all people in Egypt knew, the Pharaoh was protected by his brethren gods. The Two Ladies always sat at his side, Goddesses Nekhbet and Wadjyt, to nourish, enlighten, and guard Pharaoh. Outside them were the Two Lords, Seth and Horus. And they all gathered around Pharaoh like a protective shell. Anat would wait nearby in case anyone should wish to harm the Great King. When someone did, Nekhbet and Wadjyt stole the chaos from the hearts of the attackers and poured all the evil into a great, golden chalice.

"That's why Pharaoh Aknamkanon made the Millennium Items, right? To find another place for the chaos?" she interrupted.

"…Sure. I don't really know. Anyways,"

One day, a man so filled with grief and misery drank from that very cup. His name was Wadjisfet. His face turned into that of a baboon's and his body was then made into a hippopotamus'. So frightened and angered, he went to the Pharaoh. But Pharaoh shook his head and said, "Wadjisfet, I will not help a man who has sinned as many times as you have. Go home and pray. Your fate is in the scale now.". He could not believe the words he had just heard. Wadjisfet was so enraged by this. _How could his own mighty king not help him? _He took out an old dagger and charged at Pharaoh with his incredible hippopotamus feet. Yet Pharaoh was unharmed. Anat had thrown herself before him and the Protectors and shot an arrow into the beast's heart. He thanked her for saving his life, but "Chaos", he said, "makes many monsters. It brings me comfort to know that I have you to help fight them."

With a smile, Mana fell asleep while nestled in my shoulder. I remember looking at her that night so long, long ago and thinking that maybe she was some manifestation of Anat. All she ever wanted was to be with Pharaoh. She loved him even then and I think I may have been pretending not to see it. Maybe I wanted the chaos to happen, if only to taunt her for having a freedom I never could, to mock the world and exploit its cruelties like my life itself was an insurgency. Every morning that I awoke was some fatal contradiction. Maybe, before I even knew what I had, I was plotting to destroy myself and anyone who stood in that path. I would rise just to fall, like the lungs that were weary in my chest. And that was my cyclical, subjugated purpose.

_Chaos makes many monsters_.

I drifted off into sleep to the sonorous hum of that thought.

* * *

><p>I was choking, coughing so violently that it burned my throat. Thick, ashy air had snaked into my lungs. It poured in from the window which, oddly, Mana had not sat by. I lifted myself onto my elbows to scour the room. There was no smoke, no fire, and no Mana. She was nowhere to be seen. My heart then began to thump wildly against my ribs.<p>

"_She couldn't have run away!_" I tried to tell myself, throwing the blankets off of me and jumping to the floor. "_She wouldn't. She knows she would not last a day out there in the desert. No one would give a poor girl a camel or horse without any money- she doesn't even know the way!_"

"Meskhenet! Meskhenet!" I wheezed, nearly tumbling down the stairs. The house was quiet. Empty. I thought it only due to the lack of servants- and the ever decreasing amount so long as I stayed there. Winds blew in from the thresholds that tugged slightly on the tapestries and the laundry that had been hung just outside the door. The village was silent. My footsteps as I walked through the doorway were like heavy waves echoing from the corners of the world.

"Meskhenet?"

Wind.

"Mana?"

Leaves tapped against the mud-brick houses and prickled my nerves.

"Niece Nanefer? Nephew Tafenkht?"

I peered around the corner and looked into the fields. All the crops were rotted and dead. The fields had not seen plough or ox in years it seemed. The cattle pens were swaddled in herds of flies. The stench of the meat dug deep into my nose.

"Susupti?"

Then there came a noise. A solid weight slid through the dirt and sand. At least, that was what it sounded to be. My feet followed in the noise's path until it came across a struggle made trail leading from the river. There were engravings and holes where fingers had dug and clenched the Earth. There were bodily impressions from where they had heaved themselves out of the water. Brown clumps of mangled hair floated on the Nile's surface.

I killed her.

I killed one of Meskhenet's servants. I didn't know why. I didn't even know her name. Mana was asleep when she came into our room and for some reason, for some starving bliss that sat festering in the masochism of my blood, I killed her. I took her down to the river- said I wanted to go for a nightly stroll to escape the heat of my room. We sat for a moment on the riverbank, speaking so eloquently of nothing. I loved the way her soft brown hair cradled her face, and the way eyes were lit like the stars. I wondered what kind of beauty they would possess if to be seen from watching her drown. I don't know if she saw the solitary crocodile whose eyes were perched above the water. So I pushed her in. She thought I was playing, and so she laughed for the very last time.

I was confident in watching her writhe. If at all anyone suspected anything in her absence, it was that the only murderer was the crocodile. And this was no rarity for these villagers. I remember living there as a child and there was many a time when a crocodile would snatch such a young child like her or a taste of our livestock. The villagers tried to catch every scaled beast they could, or at least drive them further up the river. So I stood at the river's edge, knowing she was in agony, knowing that people would hardly think a thing of it, knowing she was praying that I'd wake the men with a terrified plea.

It _was_ beautiful.

I started choking again. My breath was fastened to my throat and did not wish to come out. I lost sight of the river where just a few weeks ago I had watched this servant girl squirming in the jaws of a crocodile. All I heard was that sound; that cry that not one heard in the gurgles of water and blood, that convulsive splashing and the spumes of her panic.

"Amunet!" distorted, rolling voices washed over me.

There was fire inside me. The curls of flames twisted and coiled around my lungs and through my gut. Nails dug into my throat with a laugh. My name was called again and again, but I hadn't had the breath nor will to reply. It was Nefemnah who stood above me. Her figure was misty and dark, but I knew it was her. She watched me wriggle and writhe upon the riverbank. She watched me choke, watched me strain against living and huddle in this gasping, burning death.

"Amunet!"

My eyes opened. Meskhenet there sat before me, propping my back up with one of her legs. She had a wet cloth over my forehead and held one of my hands in hers. Eyes watched from all around. Susupti was there at my other side. I hardly felt him there, but he was touching me. Sasenet, although stunned by whatever deranged performance I had just given, still found the opportunity to stand by Mana. He was just a little ways behind her, almost ready to reel her into his arms. Mana, who eyed me with a loathsome hope, was aware of that and instead busied herself with steadying my niece and nephew.

"Oh, Amunet." my sister brought me closer into her embrace. "May the Gods be praised."

"Wh-What…" I moaned.

"You gave us all a scare." said Susupti. "If it weren't for Mana's speed, I don't think it would have ended."

"Yes. It is a good thing she called us just in time. Your head was like a bonfire, Amunet. You were tossing and turning, and might I say, I didn't even know you possessed such a scurrilous vocabulary! We thought you were going to miscarry."

"The baby is…?"

"The baby is alright. You just need to rest. And another thing, _eat_! Nanefer," she turned to her daughter, "will you fetch something to eat for your dear aunt?"

"Yes, mama." she nodded, and Mana let her go.

"Alright now, everyone, let's give her some rest. Come on. Mana, if you wouldn't mind, I could really use some help in the kitchen."

All Mana had to do was follow her out of the room to show that she was certainly not staying with me. Meskhenet, a clear, unwavering matron of her home, hustled everyone out. Sasenet was the last to leave. I sat up in my sweat, the ache of my being finally hitting me. The baby moved inside me. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew that his fetal universe was a prison, if he knew just how terrible his mother was. I rubbed my sore stomach, maybe to greet him good morning. It was Sasenet's footsteps coming near my sordid bed that deterred me from what could have been a brief joy in my life. I watched him with intrigue. He was quite timid for a man of his stature and bulk. He was sweating almost as much- if not more than- myself.

"Yes, Sasenet?"

"Forgive me. I…I know this is probably not the best of times. I do apologize. I know you are in distress, but…"

He picked at the dirt and scars around his fingers.

"But I love her."

"Oh?"

"Mana. I understand she is your handmaiden and friend, Amunet, I do. In all my years, from the caravans that pass through here to the fine women I've been brought up with, I have never set eyes on a creature as beautiful as she. I know I have nothing to offer her. I have little money, a small house, and few chickens. I am a farmer's son and grandson. All I've ever known is the fields and this village."

He smirked.

"I've never seen any real jade jewels in my life, but from looking into her eyes, I understand now why the nobles and pharaohs covet them so. I wish to be lost in her gaze, yet she will never meet mine. I don't understand. What can I do to lift those glistening palace riches my way?"

Mana was more valuable to the Pharaoh than he could ever imagine.

"Amunet, please, I beg of you. With your permission, I would like very much so to marry Mana."

Why was I even considering 'no'? It should have been an immediate reply: "Of course you can marry my handmaiden and the girl who for some reason keeps saving me when I've clearly tortured, mutilated, and murdered all her chances of happiness! Why not?"

But it didn't come so easy. I hesitated. There was no way Mana was going to see Atem ever again, so…marrying a loyal, loving man like Sasenet was better than nothing. Right? Wasn't it? Shouldn't it have been?

"Sasenet...Mana isn't really... well, she..."

_She doesn't love you and she never will. Her heart belongs to Pharaoh Atem. Maybe in another life, another world, she will be yours. Say it, Amunet! "No, I do not give permission because..."_

"I accept." came the sheepish, dead voice from the doorway. It was Mana.

"Mana?" I believe Sasenet and I were both equally surprised.

"Mana, are you sure?" I tried, however much it cost me, to hint that I would deny him if she wanted me to.

"I am. Sasenet," a false, lifeless smile came across her lips and it killed me as I had killed her, the hemet, and the servant. "you must forgive me. I have too admired you from afar. I did not think you would care for in the same way."

"Oh, Mana, I-"

"Amunet. Will you allow us to marry?"

It wasn't a question. It was the spear that struck and the net that caught. She stood there as I had stood on the bank of the Nile, watching as a small, weak little girl struggled in the jaws of a crocodile. This time it was she that stood on the the safety of the shore while I was that very girl, mangled in my own vices and diffidence. She wanted me to drown in guilt, feel every bit of sorrow, of hate, and helplessness that she had felt.

"Yes." the word was hardly a sound at all.

"Oh, thank you, Amunet!" Sasenet almost burst with joy. Mana did not move. She kept her eyes as sharp as blade and pointed them right at me.

"Excellent." she said superiorly. "I shall inform Meskhenet. I'm sure she'll be pleased."

Sasenet scurried out of the room- surely to yell to his family of the news- but Mana, just one foot out of the doorway, turned back to me and grinned. It was one that I'd never imagined her ever having; a grin like mine, when there was some terrible and cruel victory just sitting in the palms of our hands.

"Oh, by the way, Lady Amunet," there was some viscious laugh in saying my name so formerly, " the reason I came up here was to tell you that Lord Harantatef is here. He says he wants to see you and has word from the capital. But I'm sure he just misses his loving, loyal daughter."

_Harantatef_. Just hearing his name pained me beyond all compare. My hands felt like weights at my sides. A sickness churned my stomach so much that it burdened the baby. I'm sure misery was evident on my face.

"Rest well." she waved with a tease.

* * *

><p><strong>Her-ka-pet<strong> - What the Ancient Egyptians called "Saturn".

**Nut** - The sky Goddess who was held up by Shu, air, and surrounded the Earth god Geb.

**Akhet** - The personification of the horizon. Also, this word could be used to describe the Harvest Season.

**Bes** - Sometimes a God and others a Goddess, Bes (or Beset) was one of the many deities who helped protect the home. Women would get a tattoo of the deity on the hips or thighs to protect against STDs.

**The Story of Anat** - Although Anat, Baal, and the shell of Gods that protected Pharaoh are all a real part of Ancient Egyptian mythology, I had to make up some of the story. Most of the actual story was lost with history. Wadjisfet is a made up character, I must say, but I made his name from "isfet". As I listed in the previous chapter, "isfet" is the personification of chaos.

**Crocodiles, Hippopotamuses, and Baboons** - All three of these animals were very real parts of Egyptian life.

- Crocodiles were both worshipped and despised. The most popular crocodile deity is Sobek, who was respected and became the patron God of fishermen, but many of the Gods have awe-inspiring crocodile forms as well. Crocodiles represented the life-giving primeval waters _and_ the forces of chaos that tried to swallow and destroy life. Death by crocodile was very common and dreaded because whether it was human or domesticated animal, the body was devoured. People believed that crocodiles were carrying out the vengeance of the Gods and delivering fate. At the temples of Sobek and Horus, some sacred crocodiles were even mummified. (_What _didn't_ the Ancient Egyptians mummify?_)

- Hippotamuses were viewed with such polarities as well. Male hippos were regarded as destructive forced and a threat to everday life. But female hippopotamuses were respected as protectors of their young embodiments of the life giving power of water. There were also several hippopotamus Goddesses or forms of Goddesses.

- Baboons were sometimes sacred animals associated with the fury of Gods and lunar deities. A baboon God named Babi was endowed with the aggressive virility of dominant male baboons. He often feasted on entrails of the dead, but could have been persuaded by men who were deceased to help them enjoy the pleasures of sex in the afterlife. Baboons were thought to be the first creatures to show any religious observance because they chattered and danced when the sun came up.


	13. Atem: Pushed Too Far

**NOTE: THIS CHAPTER IS IN ATEM'S POINT OF VIEW**

**I know… it's a first.**

**And also a very short, filler chapter. **

**Sorry.**

**And to remove confusion, the events in this chapter take place about two-three weeks before the events in the previous chapter.**

* * *

><p>"Still, my pharaoh, it <em>would<em> be wise to give Egypt a queen."

Akhenaden shifted sheepishly when I moved my weight onto my elbow.

I hadn't at all looked at any of my good council. Not even once. I wanted nothing to do with them then, for I already knew what would ensue from these audiences. They wanted me to finally end the months' long searches, to have my soldiers return from their investigations, and for me to sink into their calumnious reality. Akhenaden, Kalim, Shada, Isis, and even Set were all opposed to my continuous decision. Noblemen and advisors such as Harantatef and Marhamaat's father had also seemed partial to a lighter conclusion. Mahad and trusted Siamun, however, couldn't be persuaded either way.

"Please, your highness. Now more than ever, it seems the weight of your title offers you only sleepless nights and dangerous contemplations." Isis stepped slightly forward. "Appointing a queen does not appoint a romance, but instead brings forth a partner to help ease the illness and stress that busy themselves in your thoughts."

"Yes, yes. This I know. Have we arranged this courtly meeting to partake in more conversation about conflicts which have already been settled?"

The priestess winced. The tension in the court was undeniable; constricting, even. No one was free from the scrutiny of my words. Still, Isis persisted.

"Pharaoh, your people await. I'm afraid we can not hold off any more. And if I may be so bold, I can not bear to watch you suffer at your own hands any longer. This torment you feel, it cannot be hidden. And here we have come before you, your loyal subjects, to implore that you free yourself of this inner plague. It haunts us all, and soon I fear this depression may spread into the streets of all Egypt. You are not well, Pharaoh, and we worry."

Isis was right, to all her faults and mine. Egypt needed a queen. I needed a queen. I already knew that. The greatest of pharaohs, my father included, needed a queen to assist them- and even more so in times like mine. But there I was; Pharaoh of the greatest kingdom the world had ever seen- the kingdom of my father, and with all the best suited ears and the most meticulous of minds standing attentive before me, I felt as though no power I had could ever make them truly hear me. It wasn't about queens, or business, or political matters altogether. No.

_It was about Mana_.

Did no one other than I understand that? Could no one but the silent wives who sat idly by my side see that Mana's absence was the scourge weighted upon me? Nothing added up and still I was the only one who was not remedied by what they prized as a "logical assumption"?

Yes, of course, if anything terrible were to have happened to Anahknemrure, Amunet, and Sitamun as well, I'd have felt an unimaginable sorrow. Amunet was carrying my child and Anahknemrure mothered two of my beloved daughters, for the Gods' sakes! What sort of man would I be to feel nothing for their losses? And Sitamun, the fragile little thing she was- that was my cousin! I'm sure there were at least_ some _agreeable traits about them; well hidden, quite possibly, but I'm sure they were there. Still, the pain I may have felt for them would have been nothing compared to what I would have felt for my Mana.

Not a day or night past that I did not pray for her safe return; wherever she may have been. No matter how many times or in how many ways the court would tell me that "they just ran away", or that "they were all killed", I would never believe them. I couldn't. I would have never forgave myself if I'd given up on Mana so easily. At that point, I'm sure I was so against the thought of Mana being dead that I'd have denied it still if even her radiant corpse had been placed before me. Mana was alive. I felt it. She had to have been, for she and her beauty is my amaranth; the flower that never fades.

"I shall hear no more of this." I rolled my eyes. "If it will bury this dispute forever, then here. Adrasteia of Rome!"

My wife perked up her head as she heard her name called so demandingly. I could not meet her eyes, nor anyone else's. So my gaze hovered just slightly above the floor. My insides were cold. Just like my words.

"If Amunet does not return within the remaining three months of her pregnancy, and another that should follow, … you will be queen."

I could not tell if she was surprised or joyous, but to me it seemed that she were only doleful- a part of her heart reaching out for me out of respect and sympathy. This was not the way she wanted to be appointed. She wanted to be a first choice, not a fallback. She wanted to win the game because she was intelligent, or seductive, or charming, not because of a mysterious forfeit.

"I am honored." she bowed routinely. "Thank you, good Pharaoh."

Ranno must have seen how tightly my fists were clenching the edges of my throne because she brought a gentle hand to place on my arm.

"Atem, my love," and that pushed me further than I thought I could ever go. Ranno was ingenuous; probably the only one in the throne room without a vice to cripple their outwardly intentions. I shouldn't have treated her the way I did- she was only offering her condolences, trying to coddle the painful infection of the wound Mana's disappearance left me. I couldn't calm myself, though. Of all times, she chose that very moment to pursue her affections for me? I could not bear the insult.

"Spare me, woman! Make no advances, there is no romance here. Mana is not gone yet!"

No one made a move, obviously startled by the raise in my voice and the cruelty it conveyed. I was not myself. _I_ was even startled when the echo finally raveled the clamor.

"Mana?" the name I could only imagine being spoken so longingly came as some twisted chuckle from a man I had learned to loathe; Harantatef. We had all turned to him with an amalgam of surprise, resentment, and a soon to be regretted curiosity.

"Yes, Harantatef?" my teeth were gritted.

He had to spit out another snarl before he could continue.

"Really now, Pharaoh? Mana…_the servant girl_?"

"Yes, what of her?" my reply was quick and disquiet. He may have found something relishing about that. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a wicked affirmation I couldn't discover the source of. There was a smile on his scarred face.

"Of all the king's wives." he muttered revoltingly under his breath.

"Speak up."

He could no longer withhold his laughter.

"Of all the king's wives, you're in love with the servant girl? Is that what this is all about? You, sending your finest troops to scour the land of Egypt- not for your missing wives, but for a peasant?"

My throat caught. The priests and nobles looked from me to Harantatef and back again. My remaining wives already knew the truth. This I could feel in the way they held their breaths and tried to sit back out of my view. This was why Adrasteia was so understanding, and Ranno was quieter than usual, and Marhamaat showed emotion for once. And I think it was supposed to be condoling. They all knew that I loved Mana. And, perhaps it was only the fantastical theory I'd been cogitating increasingly, but I had hoped they'd heard in some girlish talk over wine- or whatever ladies did when gossiping- that Mana had love for me too.

I would not be mocked by this wicked soul. I would not allow a man, if even I could call him that, who would give his seeds to a lonely prostitute only to take that joy away from her, who would raise his own daughter as one would raise cattle- feed her, sell her, and slaughter her. And I was to allow his creation, the cadaver of what could have been a beautiful woman, to sit at my throne, to birth my son? What afflictions would then ensue in the heart of my heir- the greatest war between good and evil, maat and isfet, in the warbling, aching heart of a child. I would not allow this. I would not let him stand there in my throne room, amongst my council, in my great kingdom, and question the love I have for Mana like it were inconceivable and foolish.

I had to teach this lesson to his daughter once; I never thought I'd have to teach her wretched father. I am not to be trifled with. And by the mighty Gods themselves, _I _am Pharaoh, not this spineless fiend!

I stood proudly and still so violently.

"You are out of line, Harantatef! Before you even dare consider opening that hole in your face again, I suggest you show the proper respect to your king!"

Mahad and Kalim immediately reached for their swords protectively. I held up a hand to them and they froze obediently. My eyes were trapped in the hate of Harantatef's gaze, but I would not be intimidated. He wore no diadem as I did, my father's blood did not flood his veins as it did in mine, my heart was not consumed by chaos as his was feasted upon by it. I stepped down from my throne and found myself marching straight up to him. I didn't need to be seated higher than he could stand for anyone to see I was above him.

"I do not deny your claims, Harantatef." his name was venomous in my mouth. "I sent my soldiers all throughout Egypt to find Mana firstly. Sitamun, Anahknemrure, and even that daughter of yours who still carries my son in her beaten womb, they are only accessories to the treasure that Mana is in this search. And, yes, she is a servant. A servant who has stood every time she has fallen, who has laughed when she was forbidden to cry, who always cares for every living soul, even the ones who have beaten and bloodied her, silenced her with a whip or stabbed her with a dagger. She is a servant. She is also my dearest friend, a future priestess, and the woman I intend to marry."

"What?" a few voices came from behind me.

"Mana is a servant. At least for now. And still, it raises the question; how could a servant have risen to a class so far beyond yourself, that should you reach for her, you would tumble- _violently_- down the steps of societal rank?"

Harantatef did not reply so quickly. To be honest, I was a little disappointed by that. But seeing every muscle in his jaw tighten, every vein in his arms raise, and to have him wage war upon himself to quell the urge to hit me, I found a solace there.

"Mana is gone." he spat. "Just like your other wives."

"Your inclination is that they are dead?" I hissed. I never regretted the harshness in my words. "I suppose you would know for sure, wouldn't you?"

"I don't like what you're insinuating, _Pharaoh_. I've killed your enemies, not your wives. Think about it; they've been gone for four months now, approaching five. How long are you going to let your council here tell you that Anahknemrure is only still visiting town as she said she was _months_ ago? How long will you pretend Sitamun has run away? How long will you let the people believe Amunet has only gone with Mana to rest in the country until she births the heir that is probably dead too? They're gone, Pharaoh. They're dead, probably a vulture banquet as we speak!

Isis herself is unable to locate them, even _with_ the power of her Millennium Necklace. Think you I would kill my own daughter whom I have raised since she was but a newborn? She is dead, Pharaoh. My beloved, beautiful baby is dead. I have learned to accept that, and I will not stand at these repetitious meetings while you all try to convince each other that they're not. It only opens the wounds more. They're dead! How long will you lie to your own daughters, Atem? '_Mother is on a trip_' will not be so credulous when they are older. Or have you really no faith in their intelligence?"

And I did what a king rarely does- but from experience, _should_ do more often. I don't recall ever raising my arm or throwing a mound of ringed knuckles into his face, but apparently I did. He staggered backwards while his eyes swerved to regain focus. His hands were bloodied when he tried to nurse his nose.

"Don't you _ever_ talk about my children." I said.

He stared at the blood on his hands. And just when he decided he couldn't care less that I was the pharaoh and went to strike me, Mahad and Kalim were on top of him before I could take another breath. They dragged him, flailing dramatically, and the rest of us could only stare. My fist was still clenched at my side, the blood from his nose only small, dry patches around my rings. I'd have to whipe that off soon.

"You're dead, Pharaoh! You're dead! Just like your squalid, little whore! Mana is dead! And your wives too! Your rule killed them- you killed my daughter! That's it! You did it, you're just trying to blame everyone else for your innocence! What dynasty _is _this?"

He continued his rant, or so I heard, all the way down to the dungeons. I knew he had something to do with Mana's disappearance and the others' as well. I did believe he would kill his daughter. But I also believed she was already dead before I married her.

He hurt Anahknemrure; the mother of Khepri and little Hatti. He hurt Amunet; somehow, every day, every dream.

And he hurt Mana. If he _had_ laid a finger on her, I would see it cut off. If someone tore her of her dreams, I would see them torn of their limbs. If someone put out the fire in her spirit, I would set fire in their throats. If someone broke her heart, I would see theirs is smashed under the weight of stones piled atop their cracking ribs. If someone ever stole Mana's freedom to live, I would steal their freedom to die; and with that, have them live the way she died, but in a way that is gratifying to watch.


	14. Epiphanies Too Late, Too Lost

**Mana's P.O.V**

I don't know what exactly Harantatef's visit meant, but the next thing I knew, everything was in complete consternation. People were screaming all around the house. Meskhenet hadn't see her father since apparently he cut off her breast. He must have done something to have invited himself in, to march up to the daughter he abandoned and forced her to move aside. She wailed in the kitchen, struck violently with fear and by memories she had hoped would never resurface. For some reason Susupti, her husband, was bleeding from the hand. And Amunet's niece and nephew were crying for their mother, probably just as lost for answers as I was.

Amunet's screams were the most terrifying of all. They were monstrous, like she'd been cutting up her throat with each clashing storm of breath. There was no way the rest of the village could ignore these venomous howls.

I was adrift in the crossroads of their sorrows. It was a different world there. Not in Ankhtifi, but in the entanglement of Amunet, Meskhenet, and Harantatef's existences. All their secrets and all their iniquities collided there, sweeping through a bloody stupor of reality. And they'd fight over a miserable, faltering bacchanalia of a world filled with lies and breathless breathing. It consumed them. Their world was like a secret oasis, one that could quench only those who knew how to find it and those lifeless enough to drink. Almost how Wajdisfet drank from the cup of chaos and was then transformed into a monster. Such thirsty travelers were Amunet's niece and nephew, Meskhenet's husband, and sometimes I think Sasenet was too.

I was a wave that had been tossed about in their dreary oasis. I stumbled and crashed, sometimes withered into a mere ripple. But no matter my state, I knew I had to escape. Their world was not my world. I could not stay forever in the ropes of their existences, constricting around my wrists and my throat. I could not stay. My world was one with Atem in it. My world was reality; as dark as it was light, as cruel as it was kind.

They wouldn't stop. The barrage of screams and cries and curses and guilt- it just wouldn't stop! Pain came from every corner of the house and I was alone there in the middle of it all. I felt like my very own breath was about to join the chorus of screams. Where was reality? Where was Atem? Where was the shore for my wave to climb onto? And just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, Harantatef strode down the stairs and met me in the hallway. The world, whichever one it was, slowed. Maybe it was the pejorative glint in his eyes, or the smirk he crowned himself with, but nothing had ever poisoned my heart like that passing moment. It took forever for one of his feet to step before the other. He eyed me; lustfully if anything. He just barely scathed my shoulder in this practically inert moment before turning the corner towards the door.

"What have you done?" the words I hadn't even thought about saying were disgorged fretfully. Something made me say them; something, or someone powerful.

He brushed it off and continued out. I wouldn't let this go, however. I was driven in the excitement of confrontation, my need for answers. Maybe I too wanted to drink for their oasis, but without dwindling down into life forms like them. I chased after Harantatef.

"What have you done?" I screeched, but it sounded like more of a curse than a question. He mounted his horse and rode off into the hot Red Lands without so much as looking back. I cursed him, maybe only with my imagination, but I cursed him under my breath. I hoped he would remember every deplorable thing he had ever done to anyone. I hoped he would drown in his oasis. I hadn't realized how incredibly furious I was until his absence sunk in, that my attempt to get through to him had ended fruitlessly. My palms were soaked with sweat, my heart palpitated wretchedly, and I feared my temper had shamed the sun's heat.

"Excuse me?" came a timid little voice.

I turned to find a gathering of villagers. They clustered around Meskhenet's house with concern evident on their faces. The woman could clearly see the utter ache in my soul and she backed away just slightly. I never thought I'd be capable of frightening anyone away, but it seemed my emotions- the darker, destructive ones- had the better of me.

"I am very sorry." I spoke to her and the crowd, though I wasn't quite sure they heard.

"Is Meskhenet all right? Who screams? What is going on?" they asked.

"I… forgive me. We did not mean to frighten you all. But thank you for your concerns. I have no answers for you, I'm afraid. Please, return to your activities. I will handle it."

Although most of the crowd dispersed, some were still hesitant and stayed vigil. The woman who I had frightened remained and seemed to have almost wanted me to stay with her. She was elderly, but her face was as much alive as the day was bright. She touched my arm as the only comfort and condolence she could offer. It was a warning not to go back inside that house. I wish I had obeyed.

"Mana!" my husband called. He came to me with an ingenuous care and pulled me into his arms as soon as he could. I did not return his enthusiasm. I stayed motionless- dead- as if only weight to pull him down. His arms were lined with thick muscles, but it was not like Atem's protection and compassion. Sasenet smelled of the fields and the foul winds that would sweep across the Nile; he was not Atem. Atem smelt like incenses and the fresh, crisp air of dawn. Atem's embraces were like finding that solace, the perfect spot in your blankets that you never wanted to move from. They were like doors to be opened to some new adventure. Sasenet's were like fortress walls that seemed to continue to grow.

"Mana, you are unhurt? I was so worried. I heard screaming and they said it was coming from Meskhenet's residence. What is happening?"

I pushed away from him.

"I am perfectly capable of taking of myself." I snapped. "I thank you for you care, but I can fend for myself, I'll have you know."

Atem would've known that. In fact, he admired that about me. _Sasenet knew nothing about me!_

"Yes, I know. I'm sure you can, dear Mana. I still worry, though. I love you."

It _was_ sincere, and I think that made it hurt even more.

"Come." I lead him inside the house. "Take care of Meskhenet and the children. Susupti can handle himself and help you with his wife. I will deal with Amunet."

"But, Mana-"

"I am the only one that _can_ deal with Amunet. Do not fight me on this. You _will_ lose."

He didn't reply. I watched him leave to find Meskhenet; which wasn't very hard at all. Just follow the great heaves of grief and panic. I began my ascent up the stairs. There was no fear in me, even when I heard the sound of some pottery breaking. There was only a sense of duty. I felt like I had to quiet down yet another child. I was too tired to be angry, too tired to care what sort of fire Harantatef had kindled. Everyone just needed to be quiet.

Amunet was out of bed- the first time she had done so in weeks. Although she was pacing about, her belly was impossible to miss. I was surprised by how I could have ignored it for so long, but the fact that Atem's child was in there made me hesitate. The room was half destroyed. Her blankets and sheets were all strewn about the floor. My chair by the window was knocked over, and seemingly was kicked a ways away. Glass and pottery crunched beneath my feet as I approached her.

She couldn't stop moving. Yes; couldn't. I'd never seen her like this. She kept shaking her head, saying 'no, no, no' again and again. She'd run her fingers through her hair and had almost yanked some out. I saw many of her scars in the tunic she'd been wearing. It was so outworn, having not been changed for some time being bed bound and all, that it grew loose and would slip around her skin to reveal her shame. But there were wounds that were new. Blood trickled down her arms in sloppy, coagulating rows.

She swatted at a basin of water. It nearly hit me. And then she finally looked at me. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't there; control, empathy, a soul maybe. I couldn't stand to look at her like that. There may have been torment in her heart, but it was hard not to feel a sense of it too.

"Amunet, you daft woman! Allow me to fetch you a nurse, a healer, a _priest_ even; anyone who can aid your health! You are not well!"

I shouldn't have cared how she felt or if she were on the brink of death itself. But it _would_ have been good for her to fetch help. I told myself I only cared about the baby; _Atem's_ baby, my friend's and my lover's baby. It was the least I could do to console myself. After all she had done to me, and premeditatedly, I had to hate her. I was obligated. I _wanted_ to hate her- I really, truly did. I just couldn't. Never had I encountered a soul so forlorn, so lost in a ghost of a world. I wasn't sure if such a creature should have been destroyed or observed. She was one of the Gods' own deranged prototypes; too deathly to live, too rare to die.

"Fetch for me an aid? A remedy? I'll not have one!" she was emphatic with a raspy ferocity weighted to her words. She gave another fearsome swing, this time sending a game of senet and all its pieces far and wide. Although I knew she wasn't aiming all those pernicious growls and items towards myself in particular, I was frightened by the way she lashed out, almost convulsing, as though the world were culpable.

"If anything, fetch me a nepenthe to enthrall myself in, to douse this terrific fire inside me! Bring me dreams, or rather, fetch me a heart which does not ache or demand I forfeit this meager life!"

"Amunet!" I hollered before she could continue with another word. "Enough! You will calm yourself _now_!"

Her eyes slid in my direction in what seemed like the most abhorred silence. My heart, even my throat, my fists, and my stomach all tightened as though her gaze could choke. I wanted to run, get out of that room as fast as I could. I wished Atem were there, protecting me deep in his arms and commanding Amunet not to lay a hand on me. But Amunet, I feared, was beyond Pharaoh's command. If in the high of hate and sin, she'd storm through even Atem to get to her enemies. "Justice" or "Pharaoh", and maybe even "God" meant nothing to her.

The walls could not have felt closer. The ceiling could not have been heavier. Suddenly the exits were nothing but mirages in the hot sands, and although surreal, I knew that still they were barricaded somehow. My feet were paralyzed, struck by an unmitigated fear that I intended never to show. I wasn't quite sure if it was working. Although the windows were large and open, I convinced myself that I'd never be able to get through them due to some unseen force only Amunet could control. Even if I had made it through and leapt to either my feet or my fate, I'd end up back in the presence of her demonic glare, just waiting to die.

Everything; the furnishings, the floor's horizon, even the shadows and orange rays of the sun, they all seemed to complement the focal point of Amunet's eyes. There was evil in them. I saw my death in them, I saw Atem's, the baby's, the _world's_. For once, I questioned my culture and asked myself why we painted kohl around the eyes. It only sharpened the daggers of her pupils and set fire to the sorrel color of her irises. Nothing escaped them. If I so much as twitched, she'd see with the vision of a cobra and strike.

I couldn't tell if she felt threatened by me or not, but to my relief, she turned. It seemed everything had mollified finally. That gave me the moment I'd been longing for when I could finally exhale, maybe let the room slide back into place. Amunet took long strides across the room and stopped before the thick trunk she kept at her bedside. It was latched tight and I'm sure with some kind of booby-trap protecting the area around it. There had been many times when I sensed I'd gotten too close to it because she'd jolt slightly towards me or tried to gain my attention elsewhere. It was the same trunk that turned my guts into liquid that day I met Atem's daughters- a day that could not have seemed any farther away.

There was a secret in there. That trunk was the golden fortress, the somber dungeon. It was the world she called home; that small, dark, space. I watched the way she caressed the lid, her fingers diving between the engravings and gliding over the latch like seducing a lover. There was a secret in there, and one she coveted, one that coaxed her madness into a pensive, vindictive pleasure.

She smiled. There was a laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.

"I need it." she whispered, probably not intending for me to hear. "I need it, I need it, I need it."

I waited.

For what? To be dismissed? To gather the courage to run? Where would I have even ran to? Atem? Even if he ever wanted to see me again, he was days away by horse or camel. Moreover, if not by Harantatef who kept Amunet strictly, then it'd have been some lonely thieves or the desert itself that would have mercilessly killed me.

"Mana," her voice was gentle, like a mother's calling her kids into the house when the day grew dark, "it is so tedious here. The company of my own family is comforting, but no longer amusing. I've been thinking that maybe we have a few guests over. It's a lovely idea, don't you think?"

"Wh-what?"

My face was stark beyond control, I'm sure. That woman who stood before me was not the one who'd left all the broken glass and game pieces scattered along the floor. That was not the same Amunet who just moments ago had torn the very construction of the room into a fiery, moribund world, who'd been screaming for her own damnation.

"We could invite Ranno, and Adrasteia, and Anahknemrure too; wherever she may be. We could send a message into the city. Maybe she'll overhear. She does like to eavesdrop, doesn't she? Oh, and Marhamaat and Sitamun. I think they'd enjoy it here in Red Lands. There is such varied culture. And we've not seen them in so long."

She sat herself promptly on the trunk. I could've sworn I saw her resisting the urge to lick her lips.

"I've so many fun activities planned. First, we should all greet with wines and nostalgic conversation, perhaps indulge in hearing about our current dealings. Meskhenet would simply love to make new acquaintances. Then I was thinking we could ponder upon names for the baby, my soon-to-be son. I've not yet decided on one."

I hardly listened to much else after that. I was far too lost, too bereft to have even considered what more absurd frolicking "Amunet" could have planned. That was not Amunet who stood before me. She'd never wanted anything to do with the hemet and now all she wanted was their company. Nothing felt right. Nothing added up. I know women to be unstable in their pregnancy, sometimes with moods as unpredictable as a sandstorm, but never quite like Amunet or…whoever that was.

It was evil. A very starving, very omnipotent evil.

I eyed her disparagingly. I just wanted her to stop talking, stop moving, stop breathing. I almost yelled at Evil again at the risk of my life, almost cried out for the Amunet I once knew so very long ago. But I was tired of crying, tired of trying to resuscitate a body I knew would never breath again on its own, tired of trying to revive what had already rotted. Amunet was dead. I knew that, but I never wanted to accept it until then. She would never tell me a story again like she used to when I'd sit nightly by her side, she would never laugh as she had in our days alone, she would never hold her son in her arms or kiss his head when he'd cry.

And if she wasn't dead, she was suffering.

"Ranno. Please, Mana, will you tell Sasenet seek out Ranno for me?"

My eyes rolled upwardly to meet her through a blur of my lashes. They were drowsy and lame and my lids proved a struggle to lift. It may have been the first time there was ever hate in my eyes.

_Dread was contagious_.

"Oh please, Mana, I miss her. And Sasenet could never refuse you"

"Yes. I will ask. In fact, I can have him leave tonight, if that is your desire."

And I hoped she did desire it. Otherwise, I may have had to spend the night in Sasenet's bed.

"Oh, no. Tomorrow. Have him go tomorrow."

Of course. I was never so fortuitous. It took every bit of my remaining energy not to bash my head into a wall. Maybe I _was_ being pulled into their oasis- I felt like I was losing my mind! Losing my temper, yes. I already knew I wasn't going to regain any control over that anytime soon.

Instead, I sighed and feigned a tender concern for her. If I was going to make it through this, I had to pretend I was a part of their world. I had to play along as much as it grieved me to continue on with undeserved deference. I would have my chance soon enough.

"Lady Amunet, come now. I will fetch some water for a bath. I think the baby will like that."

A spark of what appeared to be innocence gleamed in her eyes. I thought maybe, just for a moment, she could have been alive. Amunet's spirit was calling out for help. But then she gave into her darkness, and her evil fed on being served and pampered. I lost sight of her again.

* * *

><p><strong>AMUNET's P.O.V<strong>

The night was so vacant. Moonlight stared in from the windows, taunting and enticing me. My sleep was empty. I awoke easily from it when I felt I had been pulled into my body. Rough ropes lifted me into consciousness that night. Mana was asleep and so was the rest of the village. I lifted myself to sit up against the wall and tried to make out figures in the shadows. Then I smelt it again; something burning, something carrion. I knew I wasn't dreaming this time. I felt too real. My baby felt too real as he livened along with me.

The moonlight kept luring me and daring me. It forced me to slip out from the covers and take a look about the room. The baby kicked. I could almost imagine his little voice telling me not to go any further: "_No, mother, no. Don't lead me through the dark. I am scared. Stay in bed where it is warm and safe._"

A shadow stepped past the doorway with a quick stride. There was whisper- I knew it. Mostly the voice was air, but a whimpering noise pierced softly through. I just couldn't decipher its message. It sent my heart jolting into my chest.

"No, mother. Stay here. Don't go in the dark." I imagined the baby saying again, if only for my reassurance. I turned back to Mana just to see if she still slept. She had changed so much since taking her from the palace, a part of me felt that she'd do anything to get back at me. Perhaps this was it. She wanted me to be as frightened as she was.

But it couldn't have been. She slept soundly on her mat, still with that same, girlish snore and leaving no room for a husband at her side. I couldn't imagine Sasenet there no matter how hard I tried.

"Well, well." I heard a prideful echo call. Faint, maniacal cackles crawled in the shadows around me. Some sounded stringed together, others drifted in and out of my ears with a slither and hiss. There a was river of dark clouds sweeping me towards the door, almost lifting me.

"No, mother. No! Don't leave me, mother!" the baby was fighting.

"Do not be so aggressive, Amunet. I only wish to talk." another lagging voice drew me out into the hallway. I knew that voice. At the time, perhaps due to the fear I could not swallow, I was choking on the answer. Where had I heard those words, that voice?

"Mother, please! It's so dark, I-" the querulous voice of my unborn child ceased, his words cut the moment I placed a foot outside my door. It was silent for a moment. Unnerving. I waited for a sound. A sign. The hallway appeared so much longer than I remembered, and the fog from the night seemed to have found its way inside.

"No! Let me go! Amun-"

I immediately tossed my head in the direction of the scream. Yet only moonlight traced the outlines of fog and furniture through the dark. The hallway seemed endless- eternal. The smell of meat, old and unpreserved, weighed heavy in the misty blackness.

"Hello?" I called down the hall. "Meskhenet, are you awake?"

I past her room. She was asleep, tucked away in her husband's arms and her kids on the mat just below hers. I must have been fooling myself. No, I was just hearing things. I was having a nightmare; I had to have been. Everyone was asleep, and no one in Ankhtifi would sneak into the house. Would they?

I shook it off. Placing one hand on the wall to keep me sturdy, I turned back to make my way into bed once more. But the walk had seemed much longer. Where was my room? It wasn't that far away, I knew it wasn't. I hadn't felt a single door for what seemed like ages. I looked around into the dark, starting to give into my terrified thoughts. The odor was unbearable then. I found myself gagging, ready to regurgitate my entire stomach onto the floor.

The wall beneath my hand melted and dripped. There was blood, running sticky and thick, over and between my fingers. I remembered the feel of it; the excitement and power it tickled me with. I finally pushed off from the wall to the middle of the hall where I found a break in the darkness. I was frozen in a sliver of moonlight, an easy prey for all the voices to see.

"A-Amunet…please…stop." this time, this new voice was drenched with coagulating liquids.

I squinted so hard my eyes grew sore. But deep into the abyss, I could spy what looked to be yet another shaded hallway. That was my task, the only thing I wanted in that moment alone; to get to that hallway, find my room, find Mana. I knew that something in this darkness was lurking, something that didn't want me to cross into the other hall.

"Amun…_helff_.._muh_.."

This voice was a loud whisper that rushed right into my ear. Somewhere not too far off, there was a splashing of water, a gurgle that might have withheld a plea for help. _Scratching_. _Digging_. An invisible scribe began carving at the wall before me. There were images on the walls that had not been there before. I knew them, and I knew them well. There was no need to read the inscriptions; those were the Mighty Gods. _And they moved along the walls_. The great crocodile Sobek narrowed his eyes at me, and with a prideful nod, blood began to wash over him. The blood of the girl I'd murdered.

Isis shook her head in dismay. She offered me no comfort, no redemption. Osiris, with his crook in hand, had pointed towards me with an expression perhaps too godly to comprehend. Anubis looked once at him and then again at me. A growl rumbled like thunder across the hall. It was a hungry Ammut, starving for my soul. I thought Anubis was coming for me, ready to drag me into Ammut's mouth or strike upon me his retribution. Instead, he opened a hand towards the end of the hallway.

"It is so very nice to make all your acquaintances." A softer, more chipper voice floated from my memories.

There was a light tapping noise. It was almost like a muffled shuffling, something stiff patting against cloth. At my feet was a trail of worn wrappings and ties. Something was coming for me. I could hear it heading for me just at the end of the hallway. Everything in my being told me to run, but I simply couldn't. Naturally, I wanted to know what I would be running from. I wanted to see the horror who would feast in my demise. Moreover, the Gods were watching me, and probably for the sport of seeing me squirm.

Everything closed in on me. I focused only on the misty darkness at the end of the hallway. I wanted whatever it was to show itself. If it was going to kill me, it should have done so by then. The tapping grew louder, the darkness shifted back and forth with its movement. And when I saw a slicked, mummified foot step into the moonlight, every system in my body simply shut down. I felt my blood run dry throughout my veins. There was nothing inside me. _Nothing_.

Nefemnah had waddled from out of the darkness. Her legs were thin, unrivaled by any living being's, and her skin was taking an odd form around her bones. The hair that had once been one of her most cherished beauties was coiled and intertwined with the remaining embalming cloth. She trudged with an awkward balance, toddling almost like a child, but fearsome nonetheless. So many of her bones were broken from her death that she had become a grotesque caricature of a human. Her eyes were either gone or hidden by the darkness; either way, when I looked into the sockets, I could hear only the sound of her body falling against the pavement. How her bones broke and crunched, the way her flesh thumped against the ground with such force and weight, how her last panicked breath was her sucking in the air from her descent.

I ran, dashing for the shaded hallway. A scream burned my throat on its way out, and then another when the dismembered body of the village girl I threw to the crocodile came crawling out before me. She reached out for my ankles with a powerful swing, and I leapt around her. I couldn't find the walls. I couldn't find the proper footing. I couldn't find myself, or reality, or whatever light at the end of the tunnel I was supposed to run towards. Nothing was free or clear. My sins were venting from my panic, devouring me whole and throwing me up just so I could burn in the fluids of masochism.

Anahknemrure leapt before me. She was the odor, the decaying cadaver that taunted me effortlessly in the shadows. Her face was a macabre slate of rage. She was almost unrecognizable, most of her skull slanted and inverted from my bashing it into the rim of Nefemnah's sarcophagus. Her filthy, bony fingers tied around my neck and pierced their way through the flesh. I heard the blood spurt energetically from my throat. I tugged and shook the bloody mess of bones and carrion before me, both of us shouting with contempt. Her bones broke- and almost not soon enough- and I pried her fingers out of my skin.

"Sitamun!" Anahknemrure summoned. "Get her!"

"No!" I cried. "No, leave me alone!"

There was a door. The moonlight circled that door as if to lead me to my fate in the next world. I would have sooner met that one than to be tortured by my sins any longer. It could not have been any further away. Without turning back, I knew the corpses were right behind me. I wouldn't underestimate, nor care to find out, how fast a mummy, a decapitated girl, a bloody mess of a corpse, a spirit, or any of the other lives I've stolen could run after their murderer.

I threw myself against the curtain to enter. I fell into a tiny, hidden storage room. Baskets of herbs and fruits fell all around me. I knocked over brooms and some sacks that were filled from the harvest. Salt poured all around me in my impact, as well as some meats and fish my sister was trying to keep for inundation season.

I was alone. The noises all ceased and I knew the horrors had returned to the chambers of my heart. I felt so heavy, so knotted with what was and what wasn't. And then I realized what I was doing. My body was doing the one thing it had wanted to do for so very, very long. I rested my head against the wall and cried. The tears weren't from my fears, or from my breaks with reality. I cried because I was hurt, because I couldn't cry when Harantatef raised his hand to me, because I wasn't aloud to cry over the loss of my mother or the separation from my sister. I cried for me, for what I had done. Guilt was a taste I never recognized before in my tears. But it dripped into my mouth, filling the emptiness I had in me, and solidified into the new, heavier pain of reality.

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><p><strong>MANA's P.O.V<strong>

We were running down the hall; Meskhenet, Susupti, and I. Even in the brevity of the moment it took to wake and then to run down the stairs, we all had figured out the source of the noises. Alas, none of us were willing to admit it to the others. And even though we all knew what had happened, any amount of preparation proved futile. I traced Amunet by her long wails, her short breath, and maybe even more so by our incredible connection. Meskhenet braced herself against her husband, already burying herself in his arms. I stood, not knowing what to do with myself, what I did or didn't want to do, what to feel, what to look at. Susupti pulled away the curtain to the storage room and immediately embraced his wife right after.

"It was a boy…" Amunet croaked.


	15. Mana: A Fearful Freedom

That memory haunts me. Even still, there are nights that can be easily devoured whole by that one, single moment of my life. Amunet; where her spirit was that night, I don't know. It may have been in the blood and misery that collected in her lap, or in the mess of tears all down her face and arms. Wherever it was, it wasn't in the hollow cast she called a body.

All I can remember is the blood that flooded and soaked her tunic. I don't know if she was laughing, sobbing, or gasping for breath, but the heir of Egypt was there in her arms. He didn't cry. He didn't move. He was but a tiny body, still seemingly tethered to his mother, and without the life I knew in his father. Meskhenet was crying- _screaming?_-but I don't think I heard it. I only looked at Atem's son, wanting to turn away from this handsome, bloody child that was born too early. It was the loudest silence I ever did hear.

Perhaps there was purpose in all of it. Perhaps this little Pharaoh was tired, ashamed even, that _this _woman was his mother. I like to think, as terrible as it may seem, that he was tired of listening to the booming of Amunet's heart. He could hear in the whoosh of blood the sin and indifference that pulsed there and simply gave up fighting. He was starving, dehydrated from the lack of empathy and purpose in his fetal universe. He must have known, the innocence that he was, that already there was a plague poisoning his waters. He knew he was conceived of a lie, festered in a lie- and a lie that I helped build. And so he had to go. He escaped her.

I was jealous of him in that way.

* * *

><p>I don't remember Ankhtifi ever being as still or as quiet as it was in the days that followed. I pretended it was only because the harvesting was at its end, but I just couldn't toss away the reality of how fast the news had traveled. If there is one thing I learned from coming from a small farm village myself, it's that nothing stays a secret for long.<p>

Sasenet was gone, so I couldn't even amuse myself with conversation. It wasn't that I had any sort of affections for the man- of course not- but I couldn't deny the fact that he was the only one who I could somewhat talk to. Everyone else was too dreary, too forlorn for words. I had sent him to bring Ranno to Ankhtifi just as Amunet had requested. Well, more like, I sort of just blurted it out to him the day after Amunet had lost the baby. When he asked Amunet where to find her, she said in a city nearby.

That crushed me.

I knew what it meant. Ranno had left the palace sometime after I left as well, and instead went back in her own edifice, the one Atem had her made as a marital gift. Harantatef must have known I'd been planning to escape, even if I had to do so with Sasenet. That's why he only told Amunet the whereabouts of _one _of the hemet- Ranno, because she was the only one who wasn't at the palace. I almost felt foolish for thinking I could make a run for it, for underestimating him so easily.

I couldn't decide what to do with myself. Amunet was upstairs having a still and silent seizure, Meskhenet was in her fit of moroseness, the children were learning to suckle on the misery, and Susupti was either too indifferent to move or too entertained to give aid. To them, every bit of their melancholy meant something. It was like they lived for these moments just so they could nourish themselves in its destruction. I can almost say it was like a festival of hate and pain which they looked forward to. I would never understand the anatomy of such creatures like Amunet and her family that allowed them to drink from misery and darkness. There may have been distraught on their faces, but I wasn't entirely convinced it was truly there.

So, on the eleventh day of Sasenet's absence- _yes, I had been counting_, I placed myself at the base of the stairs and sat. I waited. Just waited. It had been so quiet I could have almost called it tranquil. For a moment, I could pretend that there was no Amunet, no Harantatef, no pain. I cupped my hands over my eyes and let Amun-Ra lace his heated, bright arms around me. The birds outside sung like temple chanting, the wind was gentle and brought a great warmth. Amun-Ra was there with me. When I felt like my dreams would come true, I would peel my hands away from eyes, look down the vacant, sun-glowing hallway, and quickly cover my vision again. One of the those times, I would end up somewhere- it didn't have to be the royal palace- but somewhere with Atem and away from all of this.

I wouldn't give up hope. Amun-Ra came to remind me of that. I hadn't come that far, seen all that I had seen, been shoved and tugged to my edge just so that Harantatef and his bleak mist of a daughter could destroy me. It wasn't what the Gods wanted. It couldn't have been; I mean, I was born a peasant. My parents sold me at a young age, so young that I don't remember, into servitude at the palace in exchange for a few good meals. I don't hate them for that. I never had. Because then I wouldn't have met all the wonderful people I have. I was blessed with meeting Pharaoh Akhenaden, I was protected and adored by Priest Mahad, and the young Prince Atem became my dearest friend- _me_, a peasant. Even Amunet, who although was callous by nature, showed only to me her hopes and her dreams, confided and smiled with _me_.

And most importantly, the most powerful man in all Egypt loved me.

If that was what a mere servant could accomplish through charisma, selflessness, and friendship alone, then it was never my fate to rot away in the merciless desert. I was meant to be with Atem. This I know without any shadow of a doubt.

Somehow, someway, I would make it back to where I belong. I would return to Atem as Ra returns to the dawn after night.

"Mana." Amunet's gruff voice poked through my contemplations. Her voice had changed so much that then it sounded as if to be a querulous vulture. Tenderness no longer existed there. Oddly, I wasn't upset or disturbed by her calls. I almost felt prepared, alleviated. I uncovered my eyes one last time, and even though I saw the end of the hallway still stark before me, I knew my wish came true. Yes, I was still there, still peering down this dreary tunnel, but somehow reality had pierced through this odd dimension.

"Yes, my lady?" I came lightly up the stairs. There was no reply. I turned the corner into our room and was slightly taken aback by her absence. I knew I heard her calling. I couldn't have imagined it.

"Amunet?" I called a little louder.

"Come. You must see the sky, Mana."

She was on the roof. A slight jolt hurried me back down to the kitchen and towards the door. I swung outside, past the sheep and cattle, and towards the beaten wooden ladder that rested against the mud-brick. Amunet was there at the top, and totally not killing herself as I had feared. Instead, she was sitting with a refinement that I had not seen in so long. It looked like she were ready to dine with Pharaoh again, start all over.

"Look." she said, opening her hands towards the sky, "That is where the Gods live."

It was true. Something in the heavens stirred that evening. Nut had outdone herself, showing off her many colors and downy sky sculptures. The breeze carried along hues of pinks and oranges. There were riches rippling all about her; embers glittering gold and vibrant in Ra's descent, violets that swept me away like the irises of Atem, feathering clouds that curled into their divine hieroglyphics, and stars that ignited her holy decorum. There was nothing more perfect than that their image. I don't know how long I was standing there, awed and enraptured, but there were moments when I was sure I saw the Gods themselves looking down upon us with their radiant eyes.

"It is a gift." Amunet spoke lushly. It took all that I had to pull my eyes from the magnificent view. Amunet stared off into the story of the skyline, wondering which part she played in it. As sublime as this moment, this sight was, something still festered beneath the surface. It may have been the melancholy of their world still trapped inside the house below us, but I could feel it slowly fading. This sky was a sign that the war was ending. Something had to fall and I knew all too well that it wouldn't be the Gods.

I curled up next to her, so longing for a friend, for Amunet to be the girl I used to love. I think she did too, so she allowed me to comfort her. I placed my head on her shoulder. I knew it wouldn't be as it was before. I still wasn't entirely convinced that I wasn't resting my cheek on the shoulder of a corpse, but it was the symbolism of it that mattered. Amunet was too warm beneath my skin, still too dazzled by the Gods' message to be dead. It was a travesty of moment we used to share, and I wanted it too much to be real.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, not wanting to cry. She remained motionless, and yet still I knew something had moved her. "I'm sorry about the baby. If only there was something I could have done, I… I'm so sorry."

"Atemrut." she gave a small, pleasant chuckle. "That's what I would have named him. Atemrut."

"Atem's gift?" It was a handsome name for a handsome boy, for a Pharaoh's son. _Atem's gift_.

She nodded.

"It's a good name. I'm sure he would have loved it."

It was silent for a few moments after. The colors of the sky were beginning to fade into the starry abyss. The winds were still warm, full of life and secrets. One slipped right in between Amunet and I, and it woke her from her pensiveness.

"I am going to die soon." she said plainly.

I lifted my head from her shoulder. Something like that shouldn't have sounded so startling coming from _her_ lips, but the words, one by one, tore a strange line of tingles down my spine.

"Don't say things like that, Amunet." I shook my head. I tried to touch her shoulder, but she grabbed my hands first and brought them into hers.

"Listen to me, love." I saw the tears in her eyes as she said these things to me, "I am about to do something you will not wish to see. I can not say tomorrow or the next day, but soon. You must promise me, Mana, on your very soul, that once you know the truth about what I am and what I've done, you will not look back. You will tell anyone who will listen. You will see Pharaoh again, kiss him as his son will never do, and tell him all that I've done. And you will not look back. Promise me that you will do all this, Mana."

"Amunet, what-"

"_Promise me_!"

I didn't want to understand. I didn't want whatever terrible thing she was talking about to happen. The tears brimming in her eyes were beginning to pour from her heart. It was frightening. Right then, I saw the war in herself. She told me not to look back, and I started to wonder if in the future there was a way to prevent such a thing as "looking back". How could I not remember this? How could I just leave her? How could I forget the horrors, the sorrow, this woman who I both loved and loathed?

"I promise." I spoke.

She didn't hesitate to pull me into her arms. It frightened me because it seemed like this were the end. The end I had in fact been hoping for! I had it in my mind before then that I wanted nothing more than for this torment to end. I never thought I wouldn't want it when it finally came. I mean, I _did_ want it, but… not like this. Not then. I'd see Atem again. I'd kiss him, hold him, love him. But this terrible thing would have to happen, and Amunet would have to die so that I could be with him.

As much as I resented her, I couldn't forget that I'd known this woman almost all my life. I knew her favorite meals, her favorite scriptures and games, I knew at what time she woke in the morning and fell asleep at night. I knew how to care for her. And one day it would all just be meaningless? Did I know how to help her?

_Could_ she have been helped, or was time truly out already?

She hugged me for the last time, for all the times she wanted to and hadn't, for the first _true_ time.

* * *

><p><em>Wow, short chapter. Sorry, lovelies.<em>

_But, call me crazy, there's only two chapters left._

_I mean, unless you consider the epilogue & "extras" chapters._

_Then I guess that would make four._

_Also, very important: my pen name will be changing soon._

_I just wanted to post this chapter before I did so you'll know I will no longer be "Kissing Cannibals"._

_It's starting to hurt. LOL I crack myself up. Nah, nah. _

_I'll be matching my sister's pen name, "Moshing In The Rain", as "Raving In The Rain" (or something of the sort)._


	16. Mana: What Was Always There

**NOTE: Um, yeah, I lied. There is actually another chapter after this and THAT ONE will be the end. See, some people (my sister) are lazy bums and don't feel like translating things! Aw well... now I get to torment you with the conclusion! Love you!**

* * *

><p>I waited it out for a few more days. I could hardly stand it; the silence that had toppled over us like waves we never had cause to see coming. Amunet took my old place in front of the window for those few stagnant days and I was left to squander in all my fretful contemplations. Amunet's words never left me from the moment she uttered them. I felt like I was a lone slave, dragging the stones of the pyramids up the inclines with the ropes carving at my hands. Just me with all those weights, all that distance to pull them. No one man could ever build such shrines. But there I was; a single soul with the feeling of responsibility already tied around my neck. I had to prevent this terrible thing from happening. I had to find a way out, to cut the ropes, and maybe save a life.<p>

In such a grave and needy time, it was hard to find words of encouragement, someone to tell me "I have faith in you". No one seemed alive at all. Even the populace of Ankhtifi- the farmers who once smiled at me, the women carrying water who would greet me, the children who used to run circles around me- they'd all been consumed by a listless plague that tore through the village. Dread was contagious. I thought of Atem, wondering about what he would do if he saw his people in such dismay. I knew no one with a bigger heart than my Pharaoh and my love. He would know what to do. His voice could always reach me; even in a sandstorm, even in a plague like this one. I needed no more than memories of him, of the great deeds he has done for Egypt, to regain the mettle he always so admired in me.

One shadowy evening, as I was busy beading a necklace to wear for my reunion with Atem, there was a sound outside the house that made Amunet shove herself from the chair. She stood watchfully like a falcon, perched and ready to spear her prey with great, vindictive talons. I put the necklace down into my lap and tilted an ear to the approaching sound. Horses. Their hooves were beating against the earth, but not quite in a charge. There had to have been at least three by the sound of it.

I knew then- by the way Amunet had been standing so dominantly, how the rays of the setting sun-god framed the furtive, eternal disdain and savagery upon her face with such a grace and beauty- _this was it_. This was what she was talking about; the horror she knew I did not want to see.

"Susupti? Meskhenet?" a familiar voice called out.

"Sasenet?" I cautiously made my way to Amunet's side and slipped my arms around one of hers. It was a feeble attempt to hold her back from whatever she was planning on doing. But I must admit, I think a part of me wanted to see the truth I probably knew all along. I'd already seen so much, I didn't think there could have been anything worse. I knew how little I was trying. I knew that when I'd return to capital and saw my dear Atem again that I'd spend many of my days praying.

Ranno was there with him, waiting for Sasenet to help her off her horse. I knew there were three horses; one for her, Sasenet, and her handmaiden, and all of which were weighted with Ranno's luggage. She certainly did act like a bride of a pharaoh.

"Mana, my love!" he waved up at me. I wanted to vomit. "Do you know where the house masters are?"

"They're out." Amunet spat back. I didn't like the way she said it. It gave me all sorts of uneasy chills.

"They left me in charge, though." her voice then sounded like some conniving snake charmer's. I hardly recognized her as the girl I cuddled with on the roof a few days ago and wanted to pull away. "Please, do come in, all of you."

We met them at the door. Sasenet reached for me, pulled me in for a kiss, but I dodged enough so that he could only place one atop my forehead. I felt a little bad for treating him as I did. He was kind and so handsome and I knew his love was pure. He did not deserve my cold shoulder, my vacant gazes, or my denying him. If I had not already found the love of my life, the man I knew could truly make me happy beyond all compare, Sasenet and I could have been quite happy together. But it was not that way. It never would be.

"Oh, Lady Amunet!" Ranno was squealing, already burying herself in Amunet's cold embrace. "I have been so worried- we all have! And Mana, you too! What happened? Why did you leave? Pharaoh is furious!"

"Pharaoh?" Sasenet cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes. Oh, Mana, if only you could have seen it. The way Pharaoh Atem defended you in court was unbelievable. He sent Harantatef to the dungeons after he accused you of being a scandalous…well… _whore_. But he confessed his affections for you in front of all the noblemen and priests, even us hemet. There are soldiers out searching for you both as we speak. We even past some on our way here. I must say, though, it was a good idea to hide out here. I don't know anyone daring enough to try and cross this desert, and your village is almost out of Pharaoh's reign. But Atem will not have the soldiers return to the capital until you are found."

I was speechless. _Atem was looking for me_! Those were the words I've wanted to hear for so long, it almost hurt- but in the best of ways, of course. My heart sprouted wings and began floating around in my chest.

"Oh, but you're safe. I am so glad." she brought me in for a hug. I was sucked in by her scent. She always smelt so strongly of hibiscus and oils.

"Wait," Sasenet came from behind, "I don't understand. Mana… what does this woman mean 'pharaoh has confessed his affections'? Why is he looking for you two?"

"Sasenet," I tried to reach for him, but this time it was he who pulled away.

"Who exactly are you? Have you been lying to me this whole time?"

"Sasenet, please, our situation is precarious. It is true that we lied, and for that I am very sorry. We simply couldn't risk anyone knowing the truth of our identities. Amunet is one of the seven wives of Pharaoh Atem, and Lady Ranno here is as well. I am Amunet's handmaiden, her personal servant."

"Pharaoh's wives?" Sasenet instinctively dropped to his knees and bowed before them. "Please forgive me. I did not know that I was in the presence of your majesties. I would have never acted as I did if I'd known that the Pharaoh's own hands have blessed you with their touch."

"Dear Sasenet," Ranno clasped her hands delightfully, "You may stand. You have been nothing but kind and even without knowledge of our sovereignty. That is most honorable."

"Thank you, your Grace. But I must confess, I am still lost. What exactly does all this mean? Why hide out here where you know Pharaoh will not find you?"

"Yes, I too have those same questions." Ranno looked on at Amunet.

"Harantatef." she replied calmly and eerily. "I've always known my father to be cruel, but never to this extent. He wants the final say in who will be Queen of Egypt, so he's stolen many of us from the palace and hidden us. At first, _I _was to be queen. But… certain _mistakes_ were made on my part, and his good opinion of me was lost. Now I believe he wants Lady Adrasteia upon the throne."

I dare say I was foolish enough to believe that. I wanted to believe it more than anything. I wanted for Harantatef to be the bad guy and the rest of us were only victims in his devious schemes- Amunet more than anyone. But Atem would be the great hero and save us all, somehow make everything right again.

"Harantatef, after being sent to be executed, somehow managed to escape the guards. Amunet, if we don't tell Pharaoh, the other hemet will be in danger. He is still out there feeling a sense of impunity! At the very least, tell me if you know anything at all about Anahknemrure and Sitamun."

"They're dead."

It was a laconic, icy reply that frosted over all our hearts.

"What?"

"Harantatef killed them. He said if they would not be silent, he would make them silent."

"Oh…" Ranno sunk to the floor. Her handmaiden was immediately at her side, doing all she could to condole her heartbroken master. I remembered when I used to do that for Amunet, even when I despised her, even when I felt she was overreacting or simply aiming for attention.

Sasenet came to her aid and helped her upstairs where we put her in a spare room. We all made at least two trips carrying all her belongings up as well. Ranno had no qualms about crying. She wasn't like Amunet and I, who only cried when we were at our absolute breaking points, when we just couldn't hold them in any more.

"Is this room comfortable enough for you? I mean, I know it certainly is not as lavish as you are used to." Sasenet stumbled.

"Yes. Thank you."

We all sat around her. I guess we were waiting for the conversation to continue, but for some reason we couldn't get the words out. Sasenet, being the only male, felt the most out of place and left us with a smiling retreat. Ranno and her handmaiden looked once at each other and then again at me.

"What a charming young man, Mana. Is he a servant?"

"No. He is a farmer here and….my… husband."

Ranno almost fell off the bed.

"But, Mana, wh-what about Pharaoh-"

"Please…" I shook my head. I didn't want to be rude, didn't want to make a dramatic outburst. The Gods only knew how close I was to screaming at the top of my lungs every time this subject was brought up. I could only say please, begging for some relief. Thankfully Ranno understood and she eased back down into the blankets. I watched her eyes shift from me to Amunet in search of merrier conversation, but there was no such thing to be found. When she saw what little remained of Amunet's once full moon of a belly, her heart broke just a little more. The image of finding Amunet in that closet, the baby dead in her arms, it found its way back into my head.

"I am so sorry." she said. "This is an unfortunate time for us all it seems."

Unfortunate was an understatement. I could hardly stay another minute in that room with them. So, with an almost inaudible "excuse me", I picked myself up in pieces and made my way to my room. Amunet made sure I caught her gaze as I walked out. She was apologizing as earnestly as she could. It didn't help.

It was my turn to throw something when I stormed past the threshold. I wanted something to break that wasn't me or my Ba. I wanted something to smash, something to fall apart. I took the necklace I'd left on Amunet's bed and powered it across the room without aim. Something was relieving in hearing it smack against a hard surface. Beads were strewn across the floor, one ricocheting back into my ankle with a slight sting. Well, that part was counterproductive. I turned my head, angrily at first, to see what dumb object made this dumb bead smack my dumb ankle. And then my anger to intrigue, and the intrigue turned to a dark curiosity, and then that made my feet move towards Amunet's trunk.

The one I knew had a secret inside.

I knew how desperately I wanted to turn away; I could hear me warning myself from the inside . I knew I could easily and accurately guess what was inside that chest. Maybe I knew it all along. Maybe. But I had to know and forced that sickening knot in my gut to quiet. I untied the rope that kept it tightly shut and then unfastened the latches. It sounded to me like every move I made was a backstabbing cacophony and was jarringly loud. It was stuck in my head that Amunet would run in, alerted by the noise, and tear me away from the chest. A part of me wanted that to happen. She never came, and so I pushed open the lid to her secret dungeon and peered into the horror that in the darkness laid.

"Sitamun." I whispered incredulously, painfully. I shifted back a little, completely dominated by the sight of this girl coiled up and contorted into this small, dark space. The odor came swiftly into the air with a newly founded freedom. Even though it charred the air around me, entreated entrance into my lungs and my nostrils, I could not leave from this gruesome treasure. She looked so fragile, so brittle. Her skin was livid and foul where the blood had pooled inside her.

I collapsed at the side of the chest, swinging my arms over the rim to catch myself. Sobs of shock and sorrow caught in my throat. As much as I was afraid to touch her body, I wanted to cradle her in my arms as if my touch could bring her back to life. But she would not want to live in a body like that, she would not want to awaken to a place like this where Amunet ruled and breathed.

That was a human being in that chest. This was the girl who had so timidly and yet so beautifully smiled on the night of her marriage. This was Sitamun; Atem's cousin and seventh wife, a girl who lived only thirteen sheltered, obedient years! Her eyes had stared blankly towards the rim of the trunk, almost where my hands were, and her face was locked in her last, horrified expression. He eyes were so hazy, so hollow, and the color was scarcely there. Amunet hadn't even had the respect to close this child's eyes, probably so Sitamun too could stare into the cruel, empty space that was Amunet's world. She needed someone to share the darkness with, someone to share her dungeon. And she chose someone innocent and oblivious, as I imagine Amunet once was before this all began.

"Mighty Anubis," I rested my head against the chest and clasped by hands above Sitamun's body, "please let her journey to the Underworld be safe and swift. Protect her. Osiris, be gentle with her, I beg of you, she is so fragile in soul. I promise you her heart will weigh less than a feather. She did not deserve this death. Let her find happiness. Oh, please, dear Gods."

With a sniffle and wipe of my tears, I stood again to peer over her gentle corpse. I reached for her eyes and pushed them closed. Her skin was like cold papyrus beneath my fingertips.

"Be at peace, Sitamun." I whispered strongly. "I promise, I'll send someone for your body and then you can be interred where you belong. Bless your soul."

I knew it was all a lie. As much as I wanted to, I could not convince myself that this was Harantatef's work. I was past that point and already knew the truth from long before, but right then it was there before me and starting to eat me away. Amunet killed Sitamun. Amunet killed Nefemnah as well, and probably Anahknemrure, and who knows how many others. I had no time to listen to my heart breaking, or truly feel the hurt that nested within me. The pain was there, yawning as it awoke, but I could not give in to it just yet. I had to get away first. Find Atem, kiss him and never let go.

I had a promise to keep, to _me_ more than anyone. I had to make my wish come true. I had to be my own hero and somehow, like I knew Atem would do if he were in my position, make things right.

Sasenet was outside filling the bails for the oxen when I found him. Just seeing him trying so hard to think only about his work and nothing else really added to my guilt. He was hurt and that was my fault. I knew that. But I had to make things right. Even if I would never see him again, he didn't deserve to be left in the dark or this neglect.

"Sasenet?" I wanted to sound welcoming, but I'm not sure how well that worked. He was hesitant to answer me, even though it was only a nod when he finally looked up a me.

"What do you want?" he was distant.

"To talk."

He mulled it over for a moment. When he decided he couldn't just turn away from me, he set down the hayfork and turned to me. I had never seen him so torn. There was longing in his eyes and I catered to them with the most earnest hug I could offer. He took me in his arms and I knew he understood what this meant. We finally let each other loose after however long it was.

"So… you love him? The Pharaoh?"

"I do. Very much so."

He looked down at his feet.

"I guess I have to let you go then. I only wish I could have offered you such riches as he."

I lifted his face with a tender hand and smiled in his eyes.

"It's not that. Even if Pharaoh Atem were poor and ugly, I'd love him no matter what. You are a wonderful, honorable man, Sasenet. You make a fine husband, loving and protecting, but just not for me. You will always be my friend, though."

He took my hands and lead me over to the front of the house. There, he handed me the reins to a handsome, sandy stallion.

"And you make a lovely wife, Mana. When you see him, tell Pharaoh that he should do well to keep you close. There are none others like you."

"I will. Thank you, Sasenet. Thank you so much." I gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"No, thank _you_."

Our hands slipped away. He walked back towards the animal pens and his work with a lighter, lifted glow about him. He didn't look back. I walked with the horse for a little while, checking over my shoulder to see if Amunet was dashing after me with a knife. I was about to mount when my eyes found the window I used to sit by. She was standing there, watching me leave. There was some deranged amalgam of both confidence and diffidence, sorrow and joy, love and hate. She stared at me, trying to tell me something, but then turned away.

And that's when I released the reins and began running madly back towards the house. My only thought was about Ranno.

* * *

><p><strong>One more chapter to go! It will be done by the end of this week, I promise! I already wrote it, and some parts in English too becasue I'm finally getting used to this! Just waiting for those final touch ups by my silly, willy, jerkface sister. Booyah!<strong>


	17. It Never Used To Be Like This

"Ranno!" I screamed, running and running.

Running. It felt like that was all I could do, all I ever did. The mud brick house would always be too far away, always nesting on the horizon to taunt and trick me. My feet were beating hard into the ground, kicking up dirt as I went. I knew I was running as fast as I could- or at least I was hoping I was- but everything around me felt so motionless. It seemed time had melted around me in misty ribbons, dragging the colors and hues of the world around into a sluggish, moribund blur.

I guess that's what happens when the difference between life and death is measured by the race of your heart, the hurry of your feet, the hope that you'll make it in time.

The handmaiden was dead. I didn't need to step too far into the house to see that. Her body was there at the base of the stairs; eyes awake, throat slit, tossed away like old, rotten meat. But I had no time to cradle her or whisper in her bloody ear how sorry I was. Crashing noises tumbled around the house as I'm sure this girl had tumbled down the stairs.

"Amunet, no! Stop!"

"Ranno, run!" I called for her in the most instructive scream I could muster. "Just run!"

My legs were already burning when I forced them heavily up the stairs. I was tired. I wanted to give up. But just the thought of Atem shaking his head at me, his good opinion of me lost like papyrus in a sandstorm because I had forfeited, it was enough force to have me endure. I launched myself up to the next floor where at first I could only hear the clamor. There were shrill panicked pleas, solids smacking against the walls, short breaths of exhilaration, and a laugh that without-a-doubt belonged to Amunet. There was no need for me to enter the first room in the hall. Ranno was thrown out of the doorway, slammed into the wall across, when I had finally approached it.

She was already bleeding.

Amunet, dagger in hand, followed her into the hallway with a grace, a floating drear that my eyes could no further delineate. She fell hard against Ranno and lifted the dagger for another swing. Before I knew I'd moved at all, I was grappling Amunet almost entirely on her back. She heaved with frustration and reached to pry me off. The dagger bit at my legs several times, none of which I can honestly say were intentional. She would have stabbed me- _could _have stabbed me- if she truly wanted to. My hands were winding around her neck, my legs tied around her waist. I tried to use all my body weight to pull her from Ranno.

We toppled over with grunts and sweat.

"Run, Ranno!" I shouted.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" the evil in her shredded her vocals to pieces. I had never heard such a sound before. And it frightened me so gravely much that I still tell myself it was directed towards Ranno and not me. Although, in truth, I still am unsure.

I felt Amunet trying to push off from me, wanting to chase after her fleeing prey, but I held onto her. I did the only thing a horrified, quarreling girl could do; keeping my legs wrapped, weighing her down, and tugging at her hair as if to still an animal by the reins. My body did it all without my knowledge, and I had never been so glad that I had been a servant all my life. She hardly had to lift a finger in her high social status and I felt victorious knowing that my years of lifting, washing, running, carrying, fetching, and adapting to pain had finally paid off. All her abuse- when she whipped me, when she beat me, when she stabbed me- it only proved a downfall for her in the end.

Ranno was aching as she moved. I saw her limping away over Amunet's writhing shoulders. She was going to bleed out if I didn't help her soon. I couldn't keep Amunet down forever. Although I was much more suited for a fight than she was, I knew that soon I would grow tired and my will would fade with the exhilaration. Amunet, however, could go on. Her hostility and lust would overpower even me if I didn't do something soon. She struggled against me, fighting like a wild boar. I was looking into the eyes of a pretty corpse and nothing more.

"You will release me, Mana! Now. I command you!" she spat.

"You are not my master; not anymore!"

I knew if this fretful body atop me were truly Amunet- my beloved, conscious, sisterly Amunet- she would be smiling then. I think she had always wanted to hear those words, as deranged as the sentiment is. I think she would lean in close to me, as I had felt her spirit do in that very moment, and kiss my forehead. She would cup my shoulders, make sure I was looking directly into the brave uncertainty, the wishes of her eyes, and say to me this; "fight against me, Mana. Do not let me live, and that is all the justice I can ask for."

Ranno fell. She hadn't made it all that far down the steps when we heard her stumble violently. The worry was so great that it seemed Amunet and I had forgotten our aching muscles and quarrel. We'd both turned our heads towards the stairs. But I was foolish. Amunet turned her attention back to me, seeing this as the perfect moment. Ranno was injured, and predators usually go for the weaklings, the stragglers. For a brief, laconic moment, I thought there was an apology or sadness written upon her face. But, then again, I had never learned to read or write.

Everything went black after that.

* * *

><p>My eyes parted open to moonlit darkness. The air was cold. So cold I could see my breath. My sweat had frozen over my face and back, almost keeping me to the floor. And it was silent except for a frosted wind. As I sat up, my head began to throb immensely. I lifted a hand to the pain only to find brittle blood crusting in my hair. I knew then what had happened, where I was and why. Amunet must have hit my head so I'd fall unconscious. The sun and heat were gone- just as Amunet and Ranno were. I sat alone in the hallway with no remains of the day, no hint of where to go from there.<p>

"Ranno?" I squeaked dryly. I stood, taking an assiduous turn about the hall. There was no sign of her nor Amunet. No sign that anyone had lived or died there at all. No time before then had I ever felt so small. Had I failed? Had I won? Would I be able to live with either result?

"Ranno…" I tried to conquer my nerves with a voice, but I think it only added to the uneasiness of it all. I headed towards the stairs, knowing all to well what I'd find. I may have been hit on the head, but not hard enough to forget the image of Ranno's handmaiden bleeding at the base of the stairs. She was still there, but the blood was dry and her body was stiff. I did my very best not to step on any part of her, even the mess of hair tangled around the last few steps.

I stared into her. I looked into the crevice in her throat, the black pits dug into her chest. I could only imagine the sounds of her gurgling, gasping against her blood as it swelled, and the absolute pain I know she still felt as the last of her breath gushed from the holes in her lungs.

"I knew she hadn't killed you." a dusty, light voice swept from the blackness behind me. Ranno sat against the wall, staring only at the girl she had called her dearest friend; the blood-soaked heap upon the floor. She was tucked away in a blanket and as sallow as ever. Her lip and forehead was cut. Bruises were forming all down her neck and arms. I immediately went for her.

"Ranno. You are alright!" I wished to hug her, but she was so broken and small, I'd thought I'd end her if I did.

"Not exactly the words I would use… but I'm alive… for now."

"Oh, my dear Ranno," I held up her chin, and that was all I could say. _My dear Ranno_. I couldn't bring myself to ask what happened or where Amunet had gone off to. An apology, although one I was unsure was true, was lodged deep in my throat as a dagger had been to her handmaiden's. I cuddled next to her. She was colder than the nightly desert and moist from her loss of blood. She was dying in my arms and there was nothing I could do or say about it. For a good, long time, we watched her dead friend do nothing but rot.

Eternal was this moment and the blood that had been spattered along the walls. I touched Ranno's hand and her fingers had uncurled into mine. They had relaxed from the fight for her life, the fight she was losing, and nothing but nausea and chunks of disdain stirred within me. My lips quivered in the cold and I think my heart was still thumping but I don't remember. It's quite possible that it had simply stopped. Ranno's darling hand, the only part of her that wasn't unrecognizable, was all my eyes wanted to see. It was the hand that used to weave braids into my hair, pull me off to a brighter side of a room where we would talk and giggle in seclusion.

The servant in me almost wanted to take a broom and sweep away each panicked footprint, the tears scattered around us. I would take a cloth and wash away the indifference, clean the morose nothings these walls have seen so much of. And then Amunet stepped into the house. The moonlight was at her back, giving us the dark silhouette of what used to be a beautiful woman. There was no malice, and not the dramatic outburst I had been half-expecting. She looked at me once and then shoved her gaze away.

"You are free now." she whispered so decadently. I wanted to believe her. And I did. Somehow, I just knew this was it. "I will take you back to Atem."

She scooped up the handmaiden's body- which I was sure Ranno would protest to. But she did nothing. _I_ did nothing. This was how it was supposed to be. Amunet carried the body out into the night and placed her at the side of many other bodies. Each was covered by a sheet. I'd not had the chance nor will to question Amunet's other victims. Sitamun, too, was already loaded onto the wooden wagon drawn by the horse Sasenet had given me. This I just knew. I already knew where Meskhenet, Susupti, and the children had gone.

I had helped Ranno stand and make her way out towards the horse. She was awfully weak. My hope for her making this journey back to the capital was unusually low. I sat at the wagon's end to ensure that none of the poor victims should slip off in the desert. The mummification priests and disciples would be quite fortunate when we returned, although some, like Sitamun, would be harder to preserve. I placed Ranno beside me and pushed her head against my breast. My hand found hers and it would stay there in her cupped dwelling until we were face-to-face with the doors to the palace. Amunet covered the last of the bodies and then mounted the horse.

Ankhtifi slipped away into the horizon. The place was lost to the soldiers, to maps, and now to me.

* * *

><p>Days went by. The sun would hit us without mercy, and the nights would shake us cold and bitter. But other than the polarities of such meaningless things, there was nothing to tell from that trip. We said nothing- Amunet and I. Sometimes Ranno would look up at me, ask if we were close. I always said yes. I think she knew I had no certainty of that, but took comfort in my effort to please her. We only stopped once at the Sekhet-am oasis. We took water, traded Amunet's jewelry for food, and left.<p>

I slept most of the way. Sometimes I didn't want to wake up. I could have been one of those bodies sliding around in the sheets behind me. I could have been them, rotting in the desert sun, decaying in my innocence. But Amunet, although given every chance, didn't kill me. She had whipped me, stabbed me, beaten me, knocked me unconscious and defenseless, and still she did not kill me.

Then one day we stopped. The creaking and shaking of the wagon pulled me from my dreams of Atem and nothingness. The horse's hooves were silent against the earth. There was shade hovering over my eyelids. New noises- _familiar noises_- swam about the air in this stillness. None I could describe but as the sounds of a most missed civilization.

"Mana." Ranno croaked, her hand tightening around my hand as hard as she could force it so.

I found the palace's mighty pylons and high walls welcoming me home when I woke. My heart leapt with joy as it hadn't had in so very long. I was home. Every crack I used to complain about, every window or arch I hadn't noticed before, every hieroglyphic I could never read, I wanted to get lost in it all. And somewhere behind those walls, whether in the highest room or buried deep in the protective throne, my Atem was there inside and thinking of me. A smile burned across my lips. It swept to up my eyes as though there had been dust on them for the past months.

"Have I been breathing this whole time?" I could not help but blurt out. "I feel my lungs have welcomed this thing called air and seek it more!"

Ranno gave a small, coughing laughter as well.

Amunet slid from the horse. In my excitement, I had almost forgotten about her. But I could not be conquered by her misery or the memories she brought to me. She stepped lightly, like a spirit not of this world and with something so genuine and peaceful, she smiled.

"This is where I leave you." in light of the situation, her voice and demeanor was rather noble and, if I may say; _sweet_. "There is no apology I could give befitting what the circumstances deserve."

"Amunet…" what could I have said? What could anyone have said?

"What are you waiting for, love? Go to him." she sounded so merry and so gentle, it took away a bit of my heart. I wanted to give that piece to her.

"And don't look back…" she whispered to the world, and still, I was the only who heard, the only one who was supposed to have heard. "Don't look back."

My eyes widened if ever so slightly. She was saying goodbye and I didn't know why. I wanted to know what she was planning, why she was doing this all. She turned away from me and gave the horse a thankful pat. I wanted to pull her back by the shoulder, demand she answer my questions as if I could ever be so intimidating. I wanted to yell at her for being so stupid, for carrying me along on her evil, _evil _journey. But I wanted to say goodbye, tell her how strangely I wished she'd stay. I wanted to give her the apology she didn't deserve, and the apology Harantatef should have given her even though it would mean nothing at all. I wanted to say "I can help you still, just let me."

But she would shake her head, as I imagined, and smile. And then she would fade from me, from this world.

Ranno nodded to me. I looked at Amunet with a look she did not acknowledge. And then I ran for the doors. I could hear the guards stir when I approached, obviously surprised when they'd spotted me. They questioned my name, but I only continued towards the door. Someone ordered the great doors to open just as neared them. I did not wait for them to open fully and slipped my way inside the palace I had been dreaming of for so long. The incenses, the distant shuffles, the immenseness of it all hit me harder than the first time I had ever entered this palace. Oh, how I missed this place.

"Mana? Is it really her?" maidens, servants, and guards of all sorts spoke in hushed voices everywhere I past. No one dared stop me. I did not stop running. And maybe that _was _all I could do then, maybe that _was_ all I ever did; run. But I had no intention of walking or skipping to my future, towards the opportunities and moments that could have easily slipped away. So I would run for my chance. I ran for Atem, so that he'd be sooner in my arms than weeping on his throne.

"Atem!" I cried. "Atem, I'm home!"

The palace past by me in so many colors as I rushed around corners, jumped up stairs. Atem was all I cared for. All I wanted. I saw the throne room doors before me like an oasis in the desert. But the guards at either side of the door eyed me cautiously. They had no idea that I would stop for no one.

"You can't go in there." they said. "The Great Pharaoh is in conference with the court."

"Ask me if I care!" I slammed hard against the doors. With every bit of strength I had, ignoring the ache of sore muscles and dehydration nipping my body, I pushed against them. I had not come this far, had not rode all through the desert with rotting corpses and fought harder than I thought I could, to be stopped here by two dumb doors! There was a fear in me, one I did not recognize was there at first, but I would not let it have me. The guards reached for me, their spears in my direction, and stated again how I was not to enter. At the last possible moment, and perhaps by the blessings of the Gods, the doors parted enough for me to slip through. I had to push my breasts into me for a quicker squeeze through, but it worked. I'd made it in.

The guards continued to push in after me and so I ran again, but this time, with my goal so handsomely in sight. Atem was there. My love was there! His priests too, his other wives, and many nobleman.

"After her! You can't be in here!" they came after me. All the priests turned my way and took at first a defensive stance. I don't believe any of them actually thought I would harm Atem, but it was only their trained reflex. Whether their swords were half way out of their sheaths or not, the only thing that mattered was that Atem was looking back at me. He saw me race for him, questioning the very appearance of reality, but stood regardless of whether he had convinced himself this were a dream or not.

"Atem!" I called. It must have woke him, made him positive that this was truly happening. I too hadn't completely believed it until I heard his name so firmly in my voice. I was there. Always had been.

"Mana!" he yelled back. What seemed like forever between us diminished to nothing when he stepped down from his throne and came to me. I'd been running for so long I had forgotten how to stop. I crashed into his arms, already lost in them the moment I could feel his warmth. We breathed what little breath we had left, cadenced and relieved. All we could say were each other's names we were still in such disbelief, wound around in a single emphatic euphoria at the other's touch. _Atem, Atem, Atem_. _Mana, Mana, Mana_. The repetition of our names, so endearing in our voices, was like chanting a spell. Because if that moment right then and there wasn't magic, I don't know what is.

I'd forgotten all the guards, the hemet, and priests watching us. Atem had no care for them either. They could gawk or shake their heads as much as they pleased, but Atem only held me closer, placing kiss after kiss on my head between each time he breathed my name. I knew everything was going to be alright. I was in his arms after all. We weren't sure anything needed to be said, but we made small attempts. None of which made it much progress. We were too above ourselves to make sense of anything other than us. I loved him and he loved me, I was in his arms, and he would never let go. Nothing else _needed_ to make sense.

"Atem, I'm so sorry." I finally spoke to his heart, my face pressing harder into his muscle-lined chest.

"No, no." he hushed. "Do not be. It is my fault, Mana. I should have known, I should have…"

I pulled away. Not far, but enough to stand back and stare into those velvet eyes I had missed so much.

"You should have kissed me that night. _Really_ kissed me."

I was even surprised to hear the confident, sultry words leave my mouth. But I don't regret them. They were true and he knew it too.

"Would you have stayed?" his smirk, the charm that had netted me the day I met him, was still there and waiting for me. He teased me with the question, with his hands pressed harder into me.

"You wouldn't have let me go if you did."

"Then I should never make that mistake again."

All I knew was that when he drew his next breath, I wanted to get sucked in. He pressed his lips to mine. Where there should have been pain, there was warmth and pleasure. We were too hasty, but nothing could I complain about. Our lips found their ways around each other's, wanting nothing more but their company. It was not our old childhood kisses where he would flush and tease. Instead, he did all the work, showing me his years of experience in a form the hemet would never know. I would not hide in a vase and kiss him because it was my childish greeting- no- we were grown up and so incandescently in love.

The only incursion upon our kiss was the soft taste of salt. I was crying. His lips left mine only for a moment to see that I was alright before I was pulling him towards me again. My tears were of relief and of joy. This kiss was real. My love was real. _Everything _was real, including my promise to Amunet. I kissed Atem selfishly for me, but then left a smaller kiss for Ranno, so sick and weak; for Sitamun, once dead in the chest with the rest of her youthful dreams; and for Nefemnah, for Anahknemrure, for baby Atemrut, "Atem's gift", who never had the chance to know his father's cherished company or love.

My tears became too much. I was drowning in them regardless of how well Atem's lips protected me from them. He let me breath and resurface, resting his crowned forehead against my filthy, sweaty one. I had no way to mask the secret inside. It had to be unlocked, like Sitamun from the chest.

I made a promise. It may have been to someone who didn't deserve an end, who didn't deserve kindness or peace, but whether she achieved those or not was out of my hands. I made a promise to Amunet that I would reveal to Atem all that she was, all that she did. And I would keep my promise.

It was our secret way of saying goodbye.

Atem did not miss a single expression on my face.

"Tell me." he whispered condolingly as I had once done for him.

He listened to everything. The priests and wives too. Some of them acted as though they knew all along, and others as though they were going to be sick. Hands were held up over faces, eyes watered, and heads shook in dismay. Atem was strong. He didn't ask questions, only listened as I told the story I never wanted to tell. Even when it came to the part about Atemrut, his miscarried son, he only nodded. His eyes closed, perhaps if trying to imagine the sight or to say a silent farewell prayer, but he never faltered. Everything else that happened as I came to the end was a blur. It was Set and Mahad I believe who went charging out of the room shouting things like "find this fiend" and "no one rests until she is in chains beneath our feet".

All I really know is that the room was silent in all its spaciousness. Adrasteia and Marhamaat left to weep and the priests went our for the hunt. Atem had me upon his lap as he sat on his throne. Someone had given me a sheet to wrap myself in, though I don't remember who. Atem's arm was wound tight around me and his fingers went lightly through my hair. He stared at nothing, taking in all that I had told him; especially the part I said at the end. That after everything I'd been through, I was _meant to be _his queen. Amunet made sure of that.

"My Pharaoh," Mahad came back running, "Amunet has run away. The bodies are all accounted for and Isis is now treating Lady Ranno. But Amunet is nowhere to be found and has left the horse behind. She must be traveling on foot. I am sending my men to capture her before she escapes."

"No," Atem looked up with absolution in his eyes, "I will not make her anymore of a prisoner than she already is. Let us put this to an end. Moreover… if she left the horse, she's not trying to escape."

* * *

><p><strong>AMUNET'S P.O.V<strong>

It never used to be like this. I never, in all my days, imagined a life like the one I lived. But even though I knew I had been rotting from deep within, the satisfaction was well worth the sacrifice. The taste of blood became necessary; a habit even, or else I could not feel so accomplished. I soaked in the odor of the others' fear, I cuddled in the bitter cold of their slander, and somewhere among these terrible triumphs, I found a fetish for the screams they'd cry, begging me to stop. Oh, but I could not for I had found my sanctum, what gave me this thrilling pleasure of domination.

But that pleasure was gone. I didn't even know why I was running or where to, I just had to run. This running was hopeless, and I knew that well. It reminded me of my favorite scripture from the Book of The Dead; "By and by, the days will go. Some fast and some slow. When it comes to the end of me, Lord Osiris will have me plea. Weigh my heart, O God of mine, and decide where I shall part. When I have sinned, I am eternally done. When I have sinned, there will be nowhere to run."

Guilt and regret were the only things that made my feet such a burden to lift. The city streets were crowded and alive, and each person I past watched me run to the end of me. Some recognized me as the soon-to-be Queen. Every face that slipped by me was another life my death would save. I wondered why none of these men could have been my father. I wondered who would reach out, who would care. There were so many colors blurred by the tears coruscating in my eyes. I felt my kohl fall heavy and thick down my cheeks. They'd all seen me crying, and all they could do was move out of my path. They did not want to be infected because dread was contagious. I, like my blood and my murder, was contagious.

I heard the citizens gasp and shuffle when the rumble of horses followed behind me. And I knew then, when I turned to see the archer aiming his arrow at me, Mana kept her promise. I turned down a street that I knew would lead me to a temple. The holy men, just like the squalid populace, could do nothing but step aside as I and the chariot drawn archer approached the high walls and totems of the temple. My breath was quaky and loved by my sorrow. I went deep into the temple, where the setting sun could burn at my back and the statue of a God could see me so lowly at his feet, ready to succumb to the astral fate they've readied for me.

I prayed only that this man with the bow would strike me soon. Let me not see another dreaded sunrise and trap me in another day.

I am frozen without cold. I am poison in the womb of a kingdom. With every breath, I set free a diaspora of plague and contempt upon Pharaoh's wives and fathers' daughters. Within me, the texture of my soul scratches and aches. It tries fruitlessly to squirm its way out of the cage I call a body. This heart of mine- this one I own- is the only heart I've ever known. I know it is there, despite all, for I can so vacantly feel it thump. It rises like Pharaoh's pillars and cities, built in the sweat of slaves and by the burning of their hands against rope. But then it falls. A slave faints. A rope snaps.

I look up for the last time. The archer's bow creaks behind me and his shadow shows his ready stance. I take a deep breath, my last and first breath, and close my eyes. I can see my whole life below me. I see where it all began. I watch everything twirl by me again; every laugh I could have given, every conversation I could have joined, every choice I chose wrongly. I see the feast for Sitamun's marriage, the party I had to intrude upon. I can smell the incenses and the fresh food. I can hear the conversations of past business and greetings. I see Mana; how beautiful she looks in her new tunic and her hair well attended to. I see her smile. She is with Pharaoh now and they are in love.

Then there is pain in my heart. I jolt forward, writhing slightly as the blood begins to drip from the tip of the arrow. It takes little strength- and the last I will ever use- to bring forth the smile that had existed only in silence before this day. My breath flutters away from me.

It never used to be like this.

**THE END**

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><p><strong>Epilogue Coming Soon!<strong>

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	18. Epilogue

"Atemrut," I call worriedly. Somehow the four year old has escaped me once again, and of course it is at the most inconvenient of times. I promised Atem we would leave for the temple before sunset and now Ra has already begun his descent towards the horizon. By the Gods I swear, when I find this child, he too will look like the flat art on the walls.

The incenses that struggle with the warm breeze are nauseating to me. I remember how fond I used to be of the palace scents, but more and more it seems my nose has rejected them. The watchful guards positioned all throughout the palace offer me no comfort either. They stand there all day, supposedly minding every motion and detail, and have sworn oaths- each and every one of them- to protect the pharaoh and his family. And still they can offer me no assistance, not even a simple hint of direction, as to the whereabouts of my son.

"Dear Amun-Ra, Atemrut. Think you I am in any health to be running through these halls after you? I swear, when I find you…"

"Mana? Who are you talking to?"

I leap in surprise, and the baby doesn't seem to be enjoying any of my movements. Amunkesut greets me in the hallway with a quizzical look to her face. Sometimes I forget how much she's grown. Atem's first born is now a beautiful young lady and so much like her mother that I often think she is a mere apparition of her. Already four nobles, two of which are princes, have requested her betrothal to them. Atem has- at least for now- left each without a reply.

"Only myself again. Don't judge me."

She smiles in the rolling of her eyes.

"Tell me, dear. You haven't just so happened upon seeing a naked four year old boy running ramped about the palace again, have you?"

"No." she laughs. "But I can help you look for him."

"Oh, thank you. Thank you! Your father is going to kill me."

"For losing the heir to the throne and his only son? Yes, I dare say he will."

I pause only to give her "that look". We can hardly hold our serious glares for too long before they collapse into glee and laughter. I tug on her hand and lead her down the hall. While it is somewhat painful for me to bend so low, we still keep our eyes near the floor for Atemrut's tiny feet and wiggling toes. I am surprised that when we tease aloud for his reaction, there is not a sound that follows. My surprise soon turns to worry. From the moment he could walk, he's had a liking for augmenting trouble around here. Most of it I like to attribute to his half-sister Khepri's influence- the candid, untamable girl she is- but I can't fully swallow that. I fear that Atemrut has lost himself in the palace again, perhaps have even wandered as far as the pantries or gardens, or maybe has snuck into another vase. If so, it should be forever 'til we find him.

I know firsthand how good of a hiding spot the palace vases can be.

More chortles topple down the hall before us. Khepri is there running circles around Atem and little Hatti. She walks all by herself now. Hatti, I mean, who is only a year or so older than Atemrut. It's clear progress from the day in the gardens when I watched her chubby legs take their first steps. Amunkesut releases my hands and offers me a sly wink as she slips away to her half-sisters and father.

"Fear not, Lady Mana. I'm sure they've painted a marvelous sarcophagus for your sovereignty." she smirks. I feign a whine and pout for her amusement and mine. Atem finally makes his way to me and greets me with a gentle kiss. He has one arm behind his back and well hidden under his violet cloak as if holding something I am not meant to see.

"My Mana. She wears so little jewels and still I have every reason to show her off." he says.

"You're pharaoh, father. Is that not enough to show off?" Khepri snorts.

"Were I a servant, it'd be the same."

"Even with this bulging belly of mine?" I blush.

"Oh yes. All the more reason. Now, are we all set to leave? The priests are all prepared for us at the temple."

"About that…" I cough my words and turn my head as if that could save me from having to explain any further.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I just need to…um… yeah." all the hand motions I'm giving mean nothing although I try to make them say everything.

"Mana." Atem lifts an eyebrow as he usually does when he inquires me out. It is that and his touch that unravels me into submission. Sometimes I think there is warning in the tone of voice he gives me, but with all the best intentions. I close one eye for the outburst of rage I know Atem is not going to have. It's just not in him to yell at me so crossly, but it's all in good fun.

"Well I… I mean… you know." I can't possibly tell him I've lost his son for about the- um… fifth, no, sixth time? "I love you." I finish it off with the saying he's always loved to hear from me. Although, this time I squeak it like a little mouse. Not very romantic, I know.

"You can't find Atemrut, can you?" his expression is all too knowing.

"Of course not! No, no. My handmaiden has him!" I fib.

"Right His disappearance would be another of your mishap spells, I assume?"

"Ouch. Did you hear that, Atem? That was my heart cracking. I hope you're very proud of yourself."

I hear a chorus of snickers from below us. Hatti and Khepri are trying not to laugh, but the other comes from behind Atem's neck. His cloak shifts in a flow that does not match Atem's slight movements. My mouth opens in what I can only describe as some strange amalgam of surprise with a pinch of embarrassment and a ready stance for laughter.

"Hi, mommy!" Atemrut shoots his head out of his father's cloak. He throws his arms around Atem and I am still so amazed by their similarity. Aside from his lack of hair, I'd say Atem has only grown another head on his shoulder. Atemrut's practically bald head is the only thing that sets them apart for now. What little hair the boy has is tied traditionally to one side where each blonde, magenta, and black strand of hair entwine together.

"I guess it's just his adventurous nature; quite possibly from his mother."

Atem shrugs with such a victorious smirk on his annoyingly irresistible face. I love him- really, I do- but I want to shove him into something potentially dangerous right now. Of course, without our son on his back. That would be counterproductive.

"Oh, I don't like you right now, Atem. I really don't. You have no idea how sick I was with fear, and here you had him the whole time." I laugh away my worry.

"But you lied to me. Mana, how could you? Were it not for the children here, I think I could very well shed a few tears." he teases.

I purse my lips, having been caught in his playful trap.

"Oh, hush. Let me wallow in my shame." I fan my pretend tears and the children all laugh.

Atem pleasures me with the sight of his most charming of smiles. It's the one that says "I love you" without his lips ever parting, the one that shows he's proud to call me his queen and his wife, the love of his life. He helps Atemrut navigate out of his cloak and passes the child along to me. My son gladly accepts the change in host clings to me warmly. He tries to wrap his legs around me, almost seated atop my pregnant stomach, and fits his head perfectly around the curves of my neck and shoulder.

"Well, I think that's just about everything now. I couldn't go anywhere without my handsome Atemrut II. Oh, and you're all dressed too finally. Much better."

Sometimes I feel bad for the guards and servants who take us from place to place. I love all of Atem's children so very much, even the girls who aren't of my own blood. But, understandably, the servants may very well feel differently about that- especially when they're all together like this. Amunkesut and Khepri can bicker about everything created by The One Who Made Himself Into Millions. Hatti squeals and leaps at anything that intrigues her (basically everything), and even my own Atemrut can be quite the hand-_hands?_-ful. I don't even want to imagine what my new little one will be like. It is times like these that help me to understand why my parents had sold me off in the first place.

We reach the temple just as Ra touches the rim of Akhet. As per usual, the citizens who have heard somehow that we'd be arriving all gathered around to pay homage to their pharaoh. I'm still not used to all this respect, how so many bright eyes look up at me with hopes, well wishes, and prayers. Atem takes my hand in his. He knows the attention is overwhelming to me and moves to comfort me. Of course, Nefemnah and Anahknemrure's daughters are basking in the praises. They've grown up in this life as the princesses of Egypt, while until only four years ago, I was living as a servant.

Atem hurries me inside, urging his daughters to follow. My stomach is too sore to continue holding Atemrut, so I place him on the ground and at first am hesitant to let go of his hand.

"I won't go anywhere this time." he chuckles. I smile proudly at him, that beloved child of mine, and let his fingers pull away from mine because I can hardly stand to let him go.

The priests are all welcoming and nodding merrily. Some pubescent students are instructed to watch my children as a bony priest leads me and Atem further back into the temple. The incenses are heavier here than in the palace and I have to do all I can not to vomit on these sacred floors. We stop at a statue of Osiris, the ruler of life and death, and at first are silent in prayer.

The priest then busies himself with his blessings and scriptures. I place a hand on the arch of my stomach, feeling for the life inside. She obliges with a small kick. I know it is a girl this time. There is no way that kick, and all the fussy ones before now, belong to a boy's. They do not feel as Atemrut's did before I birthed him; they're much too demanding and attention seeking. I lift Atem's hand to her as well and she knows it's her father who presses so softly against her. All Atem and I can do without disturbing the priest is smile at one another, so much so that it hurts at the corners of our mouths.

The old man asks for the blessings of Osiris and his lady wife Isis upon me. He requests that Hathor keep me well and that Heqet protect the child when I should see the time of delivery. He takes oils, each one cleansed and consecrated, and gently adheres them to my forehead and the round of my belly. It is the same process Atem had gone through with all his children and I had seen done when I was pregnant with Atemrut. And I am thankful. I don't like to think about it, not in the very least, but Atemrut II could have been like Atemrut I had he not been consecrated.

With that thought, I bow my head to pray for his little soul. It's been so long since I'd thought of the sight, and with it I wish the priest could sing me a spell to swipe all the memories away. For four blissful, rewarding years, I have so scarcely thought of _her_. That's how she would have wanted it; for me to never look back. Sometimes, before I take rest in the dark at Atem's side, she will slip into my mind. I don't know if it's the shadows of night that help her enter, but on the nights that she does, it's just her smile that I see. Just the laugh that so very few knew she had hidden in her bosom.

"And may the Gods forever cherish and protect you." the priest's voice surfaces once more. He places a kiss below the diadem on my forehead, sealing the spells with his holy touch. My daughter is now blessed and protected by the Gods, if being the seed of our godly pharaoh wasn't enough to ensure her wellbeing.

Each of my children hand me a bright lotus flower when we return to the mouth of the temple. I make sure to kiss each of them on the cheek as I accept their gifts of health and endearments.

"Back home then? I surely wouldn't mind a little time to do nothing but be with my family."

"Yeah. You really need some, father." Khepri tugs on his hand. "You have to spend more time with us! We miss you!

"Of course, princess. I enjoy your company very much."

"And mine too?" Atemrut gave a mighty grin.

"Absolutely, my son. I love _all_ your company."

Atem meets my eyes and I think he sees something in mine that has not been there in so very, very long. It changes his violet orbs into a mirror where I can see what he sees. I have thought of _her _and it has left its marks upon my countenance. I have no regret for all that had happened, but there is a noticeable shine of "what-ifs" aligning like the stars in my eyes.

"Mana?" his tone is softer than before as if not to alarm the children.

"Please, go on home." I smile with a whisper. "There is something I need to do."

He knows. There's no way he could miss it.

"Shall I come with you?"

"No. No, that's not necessary. Besides, the children can hardly stand the suspense of your companionship any longer. They miss you."

He nods, but I feel there is a little hesitance in him.

"Then you will be alright?"

I want to laugh. Not at him, of course, but simply because I feel that it would best answer his question.

"I don't mean to mock you, love, but I don't think going for a walk after sunset is the worst situation I've ever encountered."

Words have caught in his throat. There's a ray of foolish, and perhaps childish embarrassment dappled over his cheeks. He only looks this way when I have bested him in some way or another, showing a glimpse of the dominance that brought me to the crown I wear.

"Liar. Of course you mean to mock me." he shakes his head playfully.

"Only when you offer up the chance."

"I see. Well, just don't attempt to cast any spells should you come across any trouble. You may hurt yourself."

I smack a dramatic hand over my heart.

"Oh… it's still cracking, Atem. My heart! Another apprentice-magician joke, is it? Like daggers!"

We laugh, but not as long or as pleasingly as expected. He looks at me for a moment when we calm. We're smiling, but it doesn't feel like it anymore. He looks at me to admire my strength and my courage, to remind me that the Gods gave them to me for a purpose. Whenever he looks at me as he does now, it is like a protective charm waved by a wand or written into scripture. Nothing can harm me now.

He pulls me in for a kiss. We always kiss as a farewell when he leaves for other lands, or business. We kiss goodnight and good morning, as greetings and as apologies. But I hadn't felt a kiss like this. This one said 'fill your chalice, not empty it' more than any other taste. Well, if such a thing could have a taste anyways. Our kisses went like the Nile floods; and after replenishing the land, it would slowly drift back away.

Atem gives me one more safekeeping look before he's shuffling all the children to his sides and guides them back to the guards who would carry them home. I wave as they go and the children yell their goodbyes.

"I'll be home soon!" I promise them. "Behave, all of you!"

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><p>"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" the guard who escorted me here asks again.<p>

"Yes. Please, just stand watch by the entrance. I won't be long."

"Yes, my queen." he bows his head.

It is strange to think that I am entering the tomb of my husband. One day, and one I hope stays many years away, his body will lay stiff here in the heart of it. And then I in the room beside it. But for now I can ignore all that, for I only need to navigate through the catacombs that house lesser regality. The sun can no longer reach here, and the torch I carry hardly scathes the blackness. The tombs are a place I never wish to go. It always brings such sorrow to know who sleeps here; to know that they should not have to be. But here I am. I stand before the tomb of Amunet.

One deep breath, and I enter.

There are few paintings in the tomb and little treasure. I had to beg the priests, mostly Set, that nothing be painted that could condemn her of any chance of a happy other-life. Therefore, they painted nothing, because there were also so few things to condone. Her sarcophagus is not as the other hemet's. It is wood instead of gold and the details are miniscule. The canopic jars all rest at the wall's edge. Other than that, there is very little to the room but what I had brought the last time I was here. No one but myself and Atem left her any gifts for the afterlife. Firstly, no one thinks she'll ever make it there. And second, these gifts are meant to honour the dead, which hardly anyone wish to do for Amunet.

In fact, no one but a single priest of Anubis, Atem and I attended the funerary service. We were the only ones that mourned. It was he and I, alone with the hastily wrapped body of a mist. I remember us standing there silently. Maybe we prayed, but even that didn't feel appropriate. We simply looked on. I don't recall crying, or feeling anything at all really. I was neither joyful nor sad, not hopeless but not hopeful. She wasn't even supposed to be interred here, not after everyone heard what she'd done. But I had Atem allow it.

Amunet was cold and murderous, that is true. She was a sinner. But she was also alone and tormented, having been choked by the shadow of her father. She was empty. I'm sure there was a time when she longed for that fatherly affection or the kiss of a mother. I'm sure she had once loved or at least thought she had. But that dried up even before I laid eyes on her. In so many ways, I loathed her. I cursed her under my breath or into my pillow for being so twisted and so foolish. I wanted nothing to do with her, and still I wanted everything. Somehow she was a friend. Somehow; a teacher and enemy too.

The flowers I had left were bleak and brittle atop her wooden prison. I took the lotuses the children had given me and offered them to her. In some small way, it brightened the room.

"You almost broke me." I say to her. "If Lady Ranno had died that night, I'd have probably fallen to pieces. Even if we were to have swept me up, still I fear that something would have been left behind. Yet you spared her, and me as well. Did you even know why you did that; why you let us live?"

Still a part of me survives that believes she will awake with an answer hidden in her wry smiles. I can see it now; Amunet stepping out of the dark and sharpening my mood with some clever retort that I am meant to decipher pensively. But the darkness doesn't oblige.

"I am queen now, Amunet, and with child. I've birthed Atem an heir. I've named him Atemrut II. You don't need me to explain why; after all, your intellectual capabilities was always one of your better qualities. But I'm sure you saw this all coming. I mean, I know that it was never your intention to have me queen, but you must realize that it may not have ever happened without you. You stirred time- _shook it even_- and opened its floodgates. Perhaps Atem and I, both as lovers and as rulers was pre-destined, but I know that this fate would be many years away if we'd never met. So I wonder, dear sister, was it you that was the evil needed to bring good? Were you the dark to show me what light was? Was this all your terrible, wonderful purpose upon the earth?

Forgive me. I digress. Oh! I brought you flowers. Well, they were blessings from my and Atem's children, but … I think you should have them."

I think still that there is a reply hidden somewhere in the shadows. I know there is none, but I never stop hoping there is closure in this. I keep my chalice full, never emptying it. Which means I need the brave and the cowardly alike. For me to stand above the sights I've seen and the lives lost, nothing can be forgotten. Those are the steps of my past. I've climbed every one of them to the very top where I stand now. If I forget or regret them, there'd be nowhere to stand. And I am very much aright with that. I accept everything that's happened. I embrace both the love and the hate I bear for Amunet. I cannot will time to stop, reverse, or speed up. And I never would want to. Nor would she.

"Why do I love you, Amunet?" I feel a single tear exploring the side of my cheek. "You were cruel and deceitful. Those who have heard the tale of your death say you had no heart for an arrow to pierce, but I know better. I always used to think that your chalice was as empty as you were. Amunet, if ever that name held a soul, you were a breathing, beautiful stillborn that I loved with all the hate I had in me."

I stand, removing my hand from the flowers and her sarcophagus.

"Tomb raiders will be disappointed here, and one day history may live to forget you. But I will not."

The baby strums a beat within me. I feel her reaching and turning about.

"Well, I must leave you now. I feel that without a word you have answered questions I've not asked. Goodbye, my lady. My dear sister."

I think the shadows shuffle as I am about to step out, and wisps of my hair curl to greet a whisper rushing over my ears. There is something whole and beating in it. I like how pleasing it sounds and the warmth it comforts me with. I want to look back, but stop myself. That would ruin this feeling, this moment. There is no need for me to look back because I am here now. I have already climbed those stones and swam those rivers. I am where I belong, no longer questioning the position of my life, and knowing my purpose could never be more prevalent than it is now.

I look forward.

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